Beautiful Stranger
by ravenbard
Summary: AU. What if it wasn't Eric who saved Pam that fateful night in San Francisco?
1. Introductions

**TITLE:** Beautiful Stranger

**RATING: **T for language and brief depictions of violence and intimacy. (May be revised later)

**PAIRING:** Pam/Tara (Human Pam/Vampire Tara)

**SYNOPSIS:** AU. What if it wasn't Eric who saved Pam that fateful night in San Francisco?

**DISCLAIMER:** True Blood, its characters etc. do not belong to me; I'm simply borrowing them for my amusement. I promise to return them back relatively intact, safe and sane. *laughs*

**A/N**: I've been toying around with the idea of Pam being human and Tara being vampire. How different would their dynamic be? How would it affect their interactions with each other? The perfect opportunity came up when I was watching that flashback scene of Pam in San Francisco. As I was watching it, I thought to myself, 'what if it was _Tara_ who saved Pam?' Plus, trying to tackle a story set in the Victorian/Edwardian era was just too tempting to resist (though I might end up regretting it as my knowledge of this time period is a little rusty). I'm aiming this story to be romance driven though knowing me, some angst and drama will probably trickle in here and there. For those who decide to climb onboard, welcome! And enjoy.

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**Chapter 1 - Introductions**

T'was a night made up of salt and broken dreams.

Pam breathed in the despondency, unmoved by the undercurrent of danger and despair that salted the night air like a smattering of spices. She crossed the cobblestoned street, ears perking up, her head turning daintily as a horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped past her, the poor beast's breath coming out in staggered, visible puffs of ghostly-white condensation even as its sides billowed and concaved from exertion.

Summers in San Francisco were a conundrum, often being colder than its winter counterpart.

Pam was reminded of this as the carriage turned a corner, disappearing into the night like an overgrown shadow that had found substance. She shivered as a petulant gust of crisp ocean air unfurled around her lithe frame and shrank further into her flimsy jacket that was more aesthetically pleasing than weather-sensible.

Such was the life of a whore. Looks were everything but practicality and common sense was a luxury few in her line of work could afford.

Pam mentally rolled her cerulean blue eyes as she veered off into a narrow side street, tucking away her grim thoughts into a faraway compartment at the back of her mind. It did not bode well for a whore to dwell on what once was and now was not the time for such deep ruminations. Alone and walking on the streets of San Francisco at the Twilight hour was foolhardy for the average female but for a whore? She was basically asking for it.

Apparently the gods above seemed to agree with Pam as she continued down the side street, her skirts swishing against the bountiful fabric of her petticoat, its sound a seductive siren all on its own.

Trouble arrived in the guise of approaching footsteps.

Pam's back went ramrod stiff, her heart pounding triple time in the confines of her chest as the footsteps grew louder, surer, subtle menace in every echo. Indignation quickly followed, rearing its ugly head, numerous years of selling her body still unable to erase that inbred snobby, sophisticated English girl within her.

It was that part of her, that part of Pam that reminded her of a life that she had long left behind that made her stop, made her whirl around, her skirts rustling angrily as though it were trying to mimic its owner's emotions.

Her mouth opened, lush crimson lips parting like the red sea to allow words soaked in a haughty, slightly frosty tone that only the rich and the powerful could afford to let loose. On a whore? She was asking for trouble.

Not that it stopped her.

"May I help you?" Her inner English girl had possessed Pam, seizing control of her basic motor functions, stealing her tongue to voice aloud her defiance that was noticeable in every careful enunciation of every word.

Pam's unsavory shadow turned out to be a man. A man of average stature judging by his clean but slightly worn garments. He seemed friendly enough at first glance but a second closer look revealed a cold and calculating glimmer in pitch-black eyes that raised every alarm in the back of Pam's mind.

The man tipped his hat, fingers barely skimming the brim of his top hat, the gesture that was meant to be gentlemanly coming off as mocking instead. "Begging your pardon," he began in an oily tone that grated against Pam's nerves. "But you look –" Another pause, this time deliberate as the man ran an equally unctuous gaze that bordered on a leer down the length of Pam's front, unashamedly undressing her with his eyes. "– quite lovely," he finished obsequiously as he tracked his eyes back up to meet Pam's fiery azure blue gaze.

Pam's teeth clenched in response, fingers twitching where they lay at her sides as she fought against the urge to ball them into fists. She tried to check herself, she really did. But rebellion was an intrinsic part of her and talking back was as natural to the blonde as breathing.

"I'm off the clock," she heard herself respond snootily. "Come by tomorrow. We open at eight."

Had Pam taken more caution, taken one more second to observe the man, she would have seen his oily smile flatten and his eyes darken with rage. This was a man who did not like being dismissed. Especially by a whore.

But Pam, _had_ thrown caution to the wind. Driven by that inner English girl that had more than once gotten her into trouble, she turned her back on the man.

It was an instantaneous and grave mistake.

Any traces of gentility vanished from the man's face as his expression twisted into a mask of malice and fury. He lunged forward, surprisingly agile and swift on his feet despite the uneven ground of the cobblestones. Callous hands reached out and grabbed Pam by the upper arm, spinning her around to face him once again.

Arousal shot through his veins like opium, stirring parts of him to life as Pam screamed, shock and fear from the rough and abrupt manhandling loosening the sound from the walls of her throat.

The man moved in, throwing Pam up against a nearby lamppost with an unpleasant thump, smiling as he did so. It was a cruel smile, a triumphant smile. It was the smile of a predator, one that was swimming, basking in the satisfaction of having caught its prey.

The man wrapped lean fingers around Pam's throat, applying enough pressure to make it hurt but not enough to fully cut off her air supply.

His smirk was smug, egotistical, as Pam screamed once more.

"That's right, _whore_," he hissed into her face, tightening his grip around Pam's delicate throat a fraction as she attempted to squirm out of his chokehold. Arousal and excitement stank from his pores as Pam let loose yet another petrified scream. His free hand delved into his coat pocket, procuring from it, a switchblade, which he flicked open in a deliberately dramatic fashion. Eager anticipation coupled with sweet satisfaction made him almost unbearably hard as he observed Pam's terrified gaze, blue eyes flickering back and forth as she sought futilely for help that was nowhere in sight.

"I like it when you struggle," he purred roughly as he pressed his rigid length, currently imprisoned in his trousers, against Pam's hip.

Hot rolls of nausea and disgust coursed through Pam and bile rose in her throat at the unwanted touch. Wide blue eyes bounced from the knife in the man's hand to dark brown eyes that were diluted with desire and bright with the need to possess, to dominant. However, when her attacker's words registered with her screaming brain, like a striking blow from a hammer, Pam felt the miasma of fear and panic seep away.

The blonde went purposely lax beneath the man's unflinching grip, her face smoothing into marble. Cobalt eyes, previously panicked and fearful turned cool, unaffected, as Pam stared deliberately into her attacker's eyes. Those suddenly cold blue eyes mocked him, silently telling him that she would not give him the satisfaction of watching her struggle.

The man received Pam's message loud and clear. If it wasn't in her proud gaze then it was in the way she was took to almost leaning casually against the lamppost, as if she hadn't a care in the world. His eyes narrowed at the unexpected change in the blonde's demeanor, his ego and other parts of him deflating slightly in wake of such blatant mutiny.

He snarled, jerking Pam backwards, his grip tightening on the knife. The bitch wanted to play? Fine. He would give her something to really scream about.

The man inched the knife forward, furious by the calm, almost resigned look in Pam's eyes but before the tip of his blade could nick or mar any inch of beautiful alabaster skin, a sudden gust of unnatural wind ruffled the tails of his coat. It was all the warning the man was given before he was thrown bodily away from Pam, pain exploding like a succession of fireworks, hot and bright, from his throat.

Pam was stupefied by the sudden turn of events, rightly so for she hadn't even seen her rescuer's arrival, let alone how or what he or she did to her attacker and would be rapist.

Between one blink and next, Pam was suddenly free of her attacker's grip and the man who thought to rape her was on the ground, gurgling pitifully as he clutched at his ruined throat that was vomiting rivulets of dark, red blood. Blood that the cobblestones that made up the streets greedily inhaled, sucking in the life giving liquid into its various cracks until thin trickles of crimson spiderwebbed into the darkness that lay beyond.

Pam watched, horrified, as the man wheezed, fingers fumbling over the gaping hole in his throat and slipping repeatedly from being wet with too much blood. She watched, eyes impossibly wide as he attempted to rise, failed, then collapsed sideways onto the ground, dead and unmoving save for the blood that continued to pump out from his fatal wound.

"Are you alright?"

Cerulean blue eyes snapped up, its owner having forgotten about the new arrival that had essentially saved her life.

One look at her rescuer and Pam felt the bottom of her stomach drop out.

Vampire.

The blonde's heart once again began a panicked hammering, tattooing a beat so loud against her ribs that she was sure the vampire that stood before her could hear it.

Pam tried to calm her frantic heart to no avail. Power oozed off this vampire in waves so thick that the air around them turned gluey and electric. The blonde stared, unable to help herself. Only well-bred manners, ingrained into her psyche by the life she had left behind, kept her from outright gawking.

The vampire, stranger, was female, her voice having gave away her gender despite its low alto. She was dressed in male clothing, top hat, waistcoat, formal jacket and all but it was all tailor-made to contour to the curves of a feminine figure.

"You're not afraid."

The homely chicken-fried drawl gave Pam pause for it was so deeply at odds with the stranger's currently blood drenched hand. A hand that the stranger brought forth to her lips, a tongue absentmindedly peeking out from plush pink lips to lick away at the crimson liquid.

When Pam failed to answer, failed to speak at all, the stranger looked up. As fathomless midnight eyes settled on the blonde's face, Pam felt her breath catch for she was now staring into a face no mortal could possibly bear to wear.

"I'm not stranger to dead bodies," Pam found herself responding, proud that she had finally found her voice and that it was calm, steady, despite the very grim fact that she was currently looking straight into the eyes of a new, more mortal danger.

The stranger's face was removed of all emotion save for an unreadable ember that glowed in the dark of her eyes. She nursed her hand, licking blood from her fingertips like a child would after consuming a sticky, sweet treat.

"The streets can be dangerous at this hour."

The chiding jingle in the stranger's stalwart Southern inflection raised Pam's hackles though she remained thankfully mute. She watched as the stranger pulled out a white handkerchief with a flourish, then proceeded to bloody its pristine whiteness by mopping up the remnants of blood that still coated her hand like an organic glove.

"A lady should really be more careful," the stranger continued as she tucked the blood-stained handkerchief back into her pocket.

"If I meet a lady, I'll let her know." The acerbic words tumbled out of Pam's mouth with no regards to its owner's safety; the caustic retort instinctive as each syllable fell into a cauldron of insolence and emerged out of her mouth laced with sarcasm.

Pam groaned inwardly, cursing her quick tongue though outwardly, she gave no indication of having regretted her words.

The stranger huffed out a gentle laugh of amusement at Pam's sass and boldness. She stared at the blonde, delight flaring in the dark of her eyes as Pam stared right back, her expression rightfully wary but more than a little haughty, arrogant even.

Seconds passed as Pam and stranger indulged in an unwitting staring contest but when the stranger's gaze turned inquisitive and more than a little predatory, Pam had to fight against the urge to press herself back up against the lamppost she was still somewhat leaning on for support. Her next exhale came out staggered, shaky when the stranger bestowed upon her a slow, burning smile. It was a smile full of secrets, full of charisma, charming and fatal all at once.

Pam gulped as the stranger suddenly moved and despite the fact that she was essentially being cornered by a vampire, the blonde couldn't help but admire the sleek and graceful way the stranger moved. The vampire was light on her feet, every movement containing the grace of a ballerina coupled with the sensual prowl of a predator that knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where it belonged on the food chain.

Pam's breath hitched, her heart now beating so fast that she was starting to feel lightheaded from all the blood rushing through her ears as the stranger closed the distance between them with slow but deliberate steps, stopping only when she was a hair's breadth away from pressing her front up against Pam's.

The scent of wild earth, cloves and something else Pam couldn't identify engulfed her like the most seductive of perfumes, the most cunning of poisons and the blonde had to fight hard against the urge to let her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"That is a uh..." The stranger ran a quick gaze down Pam's dress, dark eyes appreciative, hungry even, as they finally traveled back up to settle against wide lapis blue eyes. "...lovely dress," she complimented softly. "I'm sorry about all the blood."

Blood? What blood?

As if sensing Pam's confusion, the stranger's dark gaze flicked down to the ground. Glaucous blue eyes followed, finding her answer in her attacker that lay dead and decomposing at their feet.

Oh. Right.

"It's umm..." Pam struggled to string together a simple, coherent sentence, the stranger's heady scent oddly intoxicating, the close proximity of their bodies coupled with the slightly sheepish expression on the stranger's face discombobulating her mental equilibrium. "It's fine," she finally breathed out, her voice this side of a soft whisper, barely audible and yet sounding all too loud at the same time.

The stranger cocked her head, a gesture Pam found simultaneously adorable and surreal for it did not match the powerful, predatory aura that still seeped from the stranger like a rain from a cloud.

Power. So much of it. It fairly oozed off the stranger, making the air hum until Pam could almost see it take corporeal form. The blonde suppressed a near irresistible urge to shrink back as the stranger lasered an obsidian gaze onto her face, her observation of Pam so bold, so unapologetic that the blonde found herself almost hypnotized.

Hypnotized and terrified.

The sound of jingling coins snapped Pam out of her stupor and shame rose like a violent, mocking wave as her hand automatically lifted to accept the cold currency.

"This should cover it," the stranger intoned, her voice soft, caring almost.

Shame still reigned supreme but perplexed by the remorse in the stranger's voice, Pam dropped any and all resistance to not openly stare at her rescuer as alabaster fingers closed around the fistful of coins that the stranger dropped into her upturned palm. Another blatant glance into apologetic but hungry ink-black eyes sent Pam's mind reeling and this time, she gave in to her baser instincts, widening the gap between their bodies by pressing further back into the lamppost.

"Thank you," Pam uttered, her inbred English manners not expecting anything less after such a sincere compensation even though her recoiling from the stranger was anything but courteous. "Miss…?"

The stranger said nothing, gave away nothing as she stared at Pam. Then, she smiled. It was that low, slow, burning smile that was all at once cocky, sincere and gentle and Pam was simultaneously dismayed, bewildered and frightened by the slab of warmth that that smile suddenly ignited in the pits of her belly.

The blonde resisted the urge to pull at her hair or clutch at the sides of her head when the stranger stepped back, respecting her personal space but sparking off a pang of loss somewhere deep in the dungeons of Pam's heart.

She was losing her mind.

"May I escort you home?"

The courteous offer snapped Pam out of her questionable musings and contemplations of her sanity. Prussian blue eyes darkened to the color of slate as they turned to granite, anger and shame and indignation fortifying her walls, shutting out any warmth she gleaned from the stranger's rescue.

This stranger, this _vampire_, pitied her. Pitied Pam.

The blonde's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking angrily in her jaw as she pulled herself up to her full height, backing away from the sturdy support of the lamppost as she did so.

Pam did not take kindly to charity. And she sure as hell wasn't going to be this stranger's pity project, vampire be damned.

"I am perfectly capable of walking myself home, thank you." Pam's voice was pointedly acidic, her pronunciation flawless, bespeaking of an education afforded to only the upper class.

The stranger inclined her head, both at Pam's burst of temper and the slight shift of her accent into a lilted cadence but instead of commenting, she took another step back, a physical display of respecting the blonde's wishes.

"Safe journey home then," the stranger said softly. She tipped her hat at Pam, stepped out from the distorted circle of light from the lamppost and into the shadows that lay beyond.

Pam was thrown by the stranger's easy compliance but was not foolish enough to question it. She edged out from where she stood flanked between the lamppost and stranger, her steps unsure, questioning. However, when the stranger remained motionless, a flawless statue of midnight and curves, almost blending in with the dark, the blonde found that her feet had taken the initiative and walked her down the lonely, empty side street that would take her home.

The distance Pam put between her and the stranger did not diminish the fact that midnight eyes were glued onto her back, its gaze penetrating but projecting nothing but protectiveness edged with concern. The blonde slowed her gait, knowing that it was unwise but unable to resist the urge to indulge in the stranger's protective gaze. Her walk slowed to a crawl almost as she basked in the feel of all that safety, that security that the stranger was bathing her in. She relished the feeling, not having felt such concern towards her in far too long. It was warm, comforting; she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such care.

Pam stumbled as her shoe caught against an upturned cobblestone but before she could face plant onto the ground, the stranger was at her side, steadying her with a firm but gentle grip on her elbow.

Cool fingers dipped in midnight caressed the silky fabric of her jacket, sending strange sensations to scuttle down her skin. Pam shivered as the stranger's touch lingered for a fraction too long but didn't comment.

"That's twice you've saved me tonight," Pam sighed instead, resignation heavy in her tone as she allowed the stranger to support her, right her. When she felt the stranger's touch drop from her elbow, she experienced another confusing echo of loss. Shrugging it off, she turned, running smack dab into eyes that gleamed like black jewels out from a face that could only belong to an immortal.

Pam swallowed against the lump that suddenly developed in her throat at the stranger's unblinking gaze before pointedly away, unnerved by how much that dark stare seemed to strip her of all her secrets.

Silence crowed, obnoxious and unrelenting even as it was intermittently muted by the crackling of power that wafted off the stranger. It was like standing next to a live current. Dangerous. Undeniable. Unpredictable.

"You should go home," the stranger finally spoke, her Southern drawl, pronounced, her tone low, pained almost.

Pam watched as the stranger took two deliberate strides backwards, opening up a chasm between them. A chasm that for some odd reason, made Pam ache deep in her heart. She shook off the disquieting feeling for the third time that night, gathered what was left of her nerves and opened her mouth to release a question that had been burning like a stray spark from a fire on the tip of her tongue.

"May I at least have the privilege of knowing my savior's name?"

The truth was, Pam wanted, _needed_ a name to place next to this enigmatic and beautiful stranger. If nothing else, she wanted to at least savor this stranger's name like a fine wine on her tongue. It was the least she could do, the only homage she could offer this stranger after having been saved by her twice tonight.

The stranger stared at Pam, her body seeming to lose its shape and solidness as she blended eerily into the shadows that whorled around her like it knew her intimately. Dark eyes holding a wealth of secrets and lives bore into Pam and the blonde itched to uncover all the mysteries it held but knew she wasn't privy, wasn't worthy of such deep, personal knowledge.

Pam squirmed slightly, her breath bated as the stranger seemed to stare right into her soul with those fascinatingly endless dark eyes. She almost sagged in relief when the stranger finally softened her stare, once again gracing Pam with that slow, burning smile.

"Tara," the stranger finally spoke, her voice soft, her midnight hued eyes never leaving Pam's vortex of steel-gray and winter blue.

"Tara Thornton."

**TBC**


	2. Misplaced Intrigue

**A/N** – Okay, wow! The response to this story has been quite overwhelming. For that, I thank you sincerely. I really wasn't sure if y'all were going to dig this AU storyline and I'm glad it received positive responses. I want to personally thank those who left a review, especially those who reviewed as guests. I'm sorry I can't give you a reply but know that I'm really grateful for you leaving a comment. Alright, onto the next chapter! FYI: I will be picking bits and pieces from the flashback scenes seen in True Blood but I may tweak them a bit so any inconsistencies are deliberate. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 2 – Misplaced Intrigue**

Tara.

Tara, Tara, Tara.

Blue eyes slipped shut, hiding a wealth of frustration as its owner groaned inwardly.

Pam blew out an exaggerated breath that came out slightly strangled as her corset hindered the full expansion of her lungs.

Tara.

A full bottom lip slipped into a moist mouth, blunt teeth bearing down on the soft, vulnerable flesh until pinpricks of hurt forced Pam to relent the pressure she was imposing on her own lip.

The blonde sighed as she stared blankly at the well-loved but slightly chipped bar top, a delicate alabaster finger absentmindedly tracing its splintered and worn edges.

Tara.

Corn silk curls heaped stylishly around the crown of Pam's head threatened to come undone as the blonde shook her head in consternation, trying to dispel the vampire's name to no avail. The vampire's name was stubborn, clinging to the walls of her mind like lint to clothing.

Tara.

Pam reached out, wrapped slender snow-kissed fingers around a half-filled glass and threw its contents into her mouth with open vehemence. Regret followed her brash move when the spiced alcohol, ironically the color of blood, ignited a slow but undeniable smolder against the naked walls of her throat.

Pam coughed, eyes watering slightly as she waited for her throat to cease its fiery rebellion.

Tara.

Resignation stampeded like a herd of clumsy elephants across an aristocratic face as Pam conceded defeat. She toyed with her empty glass as she reluctantly allowed herself to revel in the intrinsically complicated yet unnervingly simple name that belonged to her savior.

_Tara_.

Blue eyes once again curtained itself behind pale lids, this time out of indulgence. The vampire's name was like a sweet poison, trickling past her lips to coat her tongue like thick honey, only to leave a bitter aftertaste. Perplexed blue eyes made a reappearance, Pam realizing that as sweet as the vampire's name was, the bitter aftertaste was a glaring reminder of just what a dangerous creature the name was attached to.

Tara.

"Nicholas!" She motioned the bartender over, desperately needing the fortification of alcohol. "Campari," she ordered brusquely as she slid her empty glass towards her resident bartender, her frazzled nerves and distraught state of mind robbing her of a pleasant demeanor.

"Yes, ma'am." Nicholas was quick and efficient as he refilled his mistress' glass, adding a generous drop when he caught a glimpse of her morose if slightly troubled expression. As a bartender, it was natural for him to be inquisitive, to ask what ailed his customers as they sat on the opposite side of the bar, staring contemplatively into their respective glasses of alcohol.

However, having known Pam as long as he did, he knew that blonde would not take kindly to his gentle prodding, however well his intentions were.

So instead, he offered her a curt nod as she waved him away, her mind already blanking him out as she glared into her glass of Campari, demanding from it answers he knew she wouldn't find.

Pam did indeed spend the next half hour glaring daggers into her untouched glass of Campari, seeking for answers in the ripples that appeared in the drink whenever her fingers tightened a fraction, momentarily jarring the nearly full glass.

However, try as she might, neither wisdom nor insight came to her from her untouched glass.

Her answer came, instead, from behind her.

Pam's back went ramrod straight as the unmistakable current of a vampire's power smacked into her corset clad back, causing pale skin to break out into goose bumps.

The scent of musk and cloves followed, curling over to Pam like a lazy snake that knew it had its prey in its clutches and was in no hurry to attack or feed.

Pam's pale fingers tightened on her glass to an almost painful degree.

Blue eyes shot over to the mirrored wall of the bar, finding from it, the reflection of the vampire who had saved her the night before.

She watched, wariness dulling the blue of her eyes as the doorman took Tara's hat, coat and cane, never once blinking from the fact that he was faced with a woman who wore the clothing of an upper class aristocratic man.

Snow-kissed fingers clenched around the stem of the glass, her fingers screaming in protest from the unwanted pressure as she watched the vampire palm the doorman a coin, no doubt tipping him generously from the sudden bright smile that stretched across his face.

Pam watched as the doorman made his way over to the cloak room to deposit Tara's garment and accessories. Panic engulfed her as Tara turned and made her way into the parlor, her pace languid, confident.

Despite the sudden erratic beating of her heart and the blood rushing through her ears, Pam couldn't help but admire the fluid way in which the vampire walked. She was almost dumbstruck by the languid gait, as if the vampire walked on springs, like gravity was a concept that didn't apply to one that held such power.

Power. Pam could almost taste the wild savagery that clung to the vampire like a second skin as Tara approached. There was just no mistaking that indomitable energy. Only a thin sliver of civilization held the vampire's true nature back. The clothes helped; they masked, they formed the illusion of an aristocratic, polite, if somewhat subversively dressed woman but underneath that, power hummed, strong and true.

For the second time that night, Pam indulged in unlady-like behavior by chugging back the contents of her glass in one single gulp.

Her eyes watered but the lingering burn in her throat helped put things in perspective.

Vampire. _Danger_. Stay alert.

"Good evening."

Blue eyes slanted sideways, trepidation fringing her gaze as Tara sketched a bow before she hopped almost daintily onto the barstool next to Pam, shifting slightly until she was facing the blonde.

"How did you find me?"

Good. Her voice was calm. Steady even. A good start.

Tara smiled, a smile that was all heat and languor and mischief.

It smoked Pam's insides.

"I asked around about a beautiful blonde with eyes that rivaled the ocean deep," came the vampire's casual reply. Dark eyes roamed down Pam's body, over her steel-front busk corset of a deep, dark red that was fringed with clean lines of black. Then, they moved even lower, taking in the yards of crimson silk fabric that made up her skirts, the bustle beneath it providing Pam with a more than aesthetically pleasing derriere.

"You look enchanting tonight."

Pam was absolutely mortified when she felt herself blush, her cheeks smudging over with scarlet as heat starburst under her skin. She ducked her head, wishing that her glass was once again full of liquid courage.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your name," Tara continued in a conversational tone even as the blonde remained stubbornly silent, pointedly ignoring eye contact.

"That's because I didn't give it," Pam groused under her breath. She groaned inwardly when the vampire's low chuckle floated over to tickle her eyes. Of course the vampire would have exceptional hearing.

"Nicholas," Pam called out once more as she slid her glass over the counter. Impatience thrummed around the blonde as the bartender refilled her drink. She wanted to feel that comforting burn of alcohol as it whispered past her tongue like a lover's caress. Anything but the decidedly uncomfortable sensation and stranger eager anticipation that the vampire sitting next to her was invoking in her body.

"May I take your order...miss?" Nicholas had to do a double take as he turned to address the newcomer.

Clad in a dark gray three-piece pinstriped lounge suit, a narrow black tie and her ink-black hair tied back in a simple queue, the vampire could have been mistaken for an aristocratic young man at first glance. However, a second glance would discard any initial observations about her being even a fraction male for the vampire's clothes were tailored to hug her very feminine curves to the point of purposefully accentuating them rather than concealing them.

The vampire, Tara, flashed the bartender a set of pearly white teeth. "No, but thank you," she replied, her stalwart Southern drawl sending Pam's mind into a pleasant haze.

The bartender nodded then moved away, instinctively sensing that the darker of the two women wanted him to leave them alone.

Tara waited until the bartender was on the far end of the bar, tending to a rumpled looking man that seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. She promptly dismissed his image after a cursory glance , shutting him from her mind as easily as one would close a window.

She had more pressing, more pleasing matters to attend to.

"What is your name?" Tara asked, her voice low, soft, her own attempt at putting the evidently jittery blonde at ease.

Pam reared back, teetering slightly on the barstool as the vampire inched forward slightly. This close to the vampire, Pam could finally dissect the third mystery note that made up her savior's intoxicating scent.

Sandalwood.

Musk, cloves and sandalwood. It suited the vampire; a combination of earth, spice and sweet. It was rich, bold, unapologetic.

Just like the vampire it came from.

The blonde resisted the sudden urge to inhale deeply as Tara turned those dark eyes onto her, her gaze unflinching, unwavering as she stared into deep pools of sapphire.

"What's your name?" Tara repeated, her voice dropping a few decibels as her nostrils flared slightly, the black of her eyes diluting as she too, paused to take in, to bathe her senses in Pam's scent.

Lavender. Honeysuckle.

A lone, sweet, almost mournful strand of vanilla.

It suited the blonde. It was a feminine scent, but not in any way weak, fragile or delicate. Instead, it was potent, strong, a battle cry of pure, unadulterated woman.

Tara fought against the urge to let her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Pam Beaufort."

The resigned tone of the blonde's voice snapped Tara out of her scent induced stupor and she swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth in wake of indulging too heartily in the blonde's inebriating scent.

"I'm sorry?"

"Pam Beaufort," Pam repeated, a thin splinter of irritation poking through the cloud of wariness that clouded her mind. She hated it when people ignored her.

Pam's eyes narrowed when she spied the vampire's full lips quirk up at the corners. It was a mischievous lift of full lips that invoked a vexed reaction in Pam and her azure blue eyes darkened dangerously as she awaited for what was probably going to be a conceited or impish reply.

She wasn't wrong.

"What's your _real_ name?" Tara pressed, closing the distancing between their bodies another fraction. Her movements were subtle, not blatant enough to alarm but evident enough to let the blonde know that she had purposely constructed such a maneuver.

Pam squirmed like she was under interrogation as Tara's gaze intensified, the heat of her insistent question all but blazing in those obsidian orbs, blasting the blonde like twin sunbursts.

'What could it hurt?' Pam thought to herself as she struggled to stay afloat in the that dark gaze. It wasn't as though her name would ring any bells on this side of the ocean.

"Pamela Swynford de Beaufort," she revealed, exhaling raggedly as the vampire's potent power slithered down her bare arms like slick rain.

Tara's head cocked as she detected a bitter note that rang heavy and somber in the blonde's voice upon the utterance of her full name. Attached to that bitter note was an undertone of yearning, of loss.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort.

Pam's brows furrowed as something almost undetectable flickered in the dark of Tara's eyes. It was so brief, so fleeting that for a moment the blonde thought that she had imagined its existence but the way the vampire was staring at her raised a nugget of suspicion that pinged warningly at the back of her mind.

Did this vampire know who she was? Where she came from? The scandal she had caused?

Dread closed over her throat and Pam took a healthy gulp of her drink in order to dislodge the lump it had formed.

She almost upset her drink all over the bar top when the vampire, Tara, reached over and plucked her hand from the glass, the vampire's touch gentle but insistent.

Pam's heart careened frantically in the confines of her chest as the vampire brought her hand up to her lips.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Swynford de Beaufort," Tara whispered, her cool breath teasing the skin on Pam's knuckles.

Pam wanted to moan, wanted to tuck tail and run when the vampire grazed those full, lush lips over the back of her hand, lingering long enough on soft pale skin that it spurred the blonde's pulse to thump erratically her heart to pound against her ribcage like a wild, untamed animal.

She pulled her hand away, more than a little unnerved at how easily the vampire was able to unravel her wits and poise. Her hand returned back to wrapping slender fingers around the stem of her glass, an act that was meant to be a decoy to resist the urge to wipe away the phantom imprint of the vampire's lips against her skin.

"Why are you here?" Pam asked, her voice coming off this side of curt. She brought her glass to her lips, deliberately taking a slow, nonchalant sip as she sought to regain her composure.

"Perhaps I came seeking the pleasure of your company," Tara responded, gracing Pam with that small smile that bordered on a smirk.

"I don't service women," Pam blurted out, all traces of nonchalance disappearing in wake of Tara's reply. Her fingers tightened on the stem of the glass, clutching it so hard that it squeaked in protest. An embarrassed blush followed, creeping up the pale column of her neck only to dust her cheeks with a pale smattering of diluted crimson.

Tara's responding rich laugh was low, musical, teasing her ears with its creamy, rich notes.

It sent Pam's hackles rising.

"I _don't_ service women," the blonde repeated, her voice decidedly cooler now as she set her glass firmly on the bar top. She turned and faced the vampire head on, azure blue eyes steely as they locked onto twin chips of pitch.

Tara's eyes were amused as she regarded Pam, temper flare and all, with another one of her small smiles. "I'm not looking to be…serviced," she replied, her southern drawl slipping slightly on the word as her tongue tried it on for size.

"Then why are you here?" Pam snapped peevishly. She couldn't help it. Her nerves were on a steady fray ever since her unfortunate encounter with the vampire and now, faced with the source of her distraught in flesh and blood, there was only so much she could take before she broke.

Tara's amused smile faded as she regarded Pam silently, her eyes darkening impossibly as she observed the blonde with a stillness and patience that could only come from being immortal.

Pam was beginning to regret her rash outburst when the air around her once again began crackling with power. She could almost taste the wild flavor of feral, primitive vampire in the air as it left traces of its existence like a lingering scent.

"You intrigue me," Tara offered finally, her voice a low alto, her expression almost touching upon the realm of perplexed even as her voice remained calm and conversational.

Pam stared, struck mute by the vampire's blunt admission.

'_You intrigue me.'_

Great. Just great. A vampire was _intrigued_ by her. She had intrigued a _vampire_. She would have to add that to her long list of mistakes.

"Is there any way I can persuade you to redirect your uh…_intrigue,_ someplace else?" Pam requested archly though her exasperation and displeasure was marred by the loud note of desperation that cleanly shattered through the thin veneer of her false bravado.

Her desperation didn't last as Tara's expression once again slipped behind a mask of mischief, swinging the blonde's emotional pendulum back to irate. The blonde internally fumed when Tara turned on that half-smile, half-smirk again, her dark eyes twinkling with barely contained mirth and more than a little amusement.

It was official. Pam hated that cocky smirk.

He ire with the vampire only amplified when Tara shook her head in mocking remorse.

"I'm afraid not," she replied airily as she shifted slightly in her seat until her back was leaning casual against the bar top.

It was a physical manifestation of her unapologetic answer.

Pam repressed an infuriated growl as she pointedly turned away from the vampire, needing to regain her composure lest she end up doing something she would later regret.

The blonde almost breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw, from the corner of her eye, her one and only client for the night step into the parlor, his beady eyes already scanning the bar area for Pam.

"My apologies, Ms. Thornton," Pam addressed the vampire formally as she schooled her face into smooth marble, her eyes closing the doors to her emotions until they resembled a still lake untouched by the fingers of a playful wind.

The blonde stood, prompting the vampire to do the same. "My client is here and I must attend to his needs." The words sent a nauseating wave of shame and disgust to roll through her veins but she pushed through it. "If you'll excuse me."

Tara bowed low at the waist, a courtesy that was usually reserved for the women of the upper class. Such manners were definitely not directed to a whore on any normal day and Pam could feel her client's confusion and slight sneer even as his eyes flitted over from Pam to the vampire, eyes narrowing when a retinal scan informed him that Pam's current suitor was a woman.

"Of course," Tara replied genially. She stepped back, allowing Pam her personal space, dark eyes suddenly unreadable as they hopped over Pam's shoulder to assess the blonde's client.

"If you require the services of my girls please make your way to the drawing room," Pam instructed, waving her hand to the left of the parlor. "I bid you a good evening, Ms. Thornton."

With that parting sentence, Pam turned on her heel, the abundant fabric of her skirts rustling against each other as the blonde sauntered over to her client, slipping from distraught woman to confident seductress between one step and the next.

Tara watched as the man, a tall and broad-shouldered male, greeted Pam with a kiss on her cheek. She watched as Pam blushed prettily, appropriately, slipping her arm into the crook of the man's elbow as she allowed him to lead her upstairs.

Tara watched, a silent statute in the parlor, until Pam and her client disappeared from sight.

She was unprepared for what the sight did to her cold, dead heart.

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Pam double checked the locks to her establishment before dropping the key into her purse. Wrapping her shawl more securely around her peasant-like pouter pigeon blouse, her trumpet skirt ruffled slightly in the frigid wind as she walked down the few steps that led to the pavement.

The sight of Tara leaning casually against the brick wall, sucking absentmindedly on a cigarette almost drew out a startled scream from her throat.

"What are you doing here?!"

Blue eyes had narrowed to slits, her heart, previously thumping from shock was now thudding with anger.

What was it going to take to get this vampire to leave her alone? All she wanted, after a rather rough night with her client, was to go home, draw herself a bath to wash away the stink and evidence of her shame before crawling into bed. Was that too much to ask?

"You smell like sex." The vampire's blunt observation once again rendered Pam mute and the blonde watched through a stupefied gaze as Tara tossed her cigarette to the ground, stubbing its lit end out with the bottom of her shoe.

When dark eyes locked onto furious pools of sapphire, Pam snapped out it. "It's what I do," she spat out, incensed that a _vampire_, a creature that fed on humans, stole their _lives_, had the gall to bring shame down on her. "I exchange pleasure for currency. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Tara didn't react as she pushed off from the wall, gathering her cane as she did so. Her unbuttoned sack coat flapped out behind her like a pair of bat wings as a sudden gust of wind rush headlong at her.

"I did not mean to offend," Tara apologized. "I was merely making an observation."

"I'm well aware of the nature of my activities tonight, Ms. Thornton," Pam snapped icily. "I do not need you, a..._leech_, to remind me of just how low I've stooped."

Anger fairly radiated off the blonde as she sidestepped Tara, deliberately keeping a wide berth between their bodies. If her anger could give off heat, the air around Pam would be steaming with condensation.

A gentle hand descended on her elbow, the touch timid almost and despite herself, Pam found that her feet abruptly halted in their tracks.

"What is it?" Exhaustion rang loudly in her tone though Pam kept her back to Tara. For the average individual, it may have seemed a foolish and outright reckless thing to do, turning one's back on a vampire but Pam knew, knew that Tara would never harm her.

She didn't know how she knew. Only that the knowledge was true and pure and infallible.

"If you'll permit me to escort you home…"

"No." Pam shook off Tara's grip. The vampire had been her savior, had rescued her from one of the many dangers San Francisco's deep, dark night held. And for that, she would be eternally grateful.

But Pam was also a proud woman. Her independence was one of the last things she had in her sovereignty and she would do well to keep intact, every kernel of it.

"I bid you good night, Ms. Thornton," Pam offered quietly. It was a peace offering, one that came laced with the unspoken request of wanting to be left alone.

Tara let her go.

For the second time that night, she watched until Pam disappeared from sight, the darkness of the night swallowing her lithe and slightly shivering frame until even Tara's vampiric eyesight couldn't discern her from the inky blots of shadows that smudged the night air.

"Goodnight…Pamela."

**TBC**


	3. And We Meet Again

**A/N** – So, some serious thanking needs to be done. Thank you all for your support and taking the time to review. It means a lot and you know I enjoy reading what your thoughts on the chapter are. It's very interesting to read different people's perspectives. Well, here is chapter three, for your amusement. Happy reading and have a good, safe but hopefully fun weekend.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – And We Meet Again**

Tara didn't come to her for a fortnight.

Pam sighed and it came out suspiciously despondent as she picked uninterestedly at the crab Nicholas had ordered for her.

Tara's abrupt absence brought to Pam's attention, a void the blonde did not even realize she had inside of her.

Filling this void was a cacophony of conflicting emotions that mimicked pressure against her chest as they took turns to press their cold, cruel fingers against the valves of Pam's heart.

Bewilderment. Relief. Sadness. Irritation.

Naked shoulders, the color of smooth cream milk and decorated only with the thin, lacy straps from her dark crimson corset slumped as Pam sagged against the bar top, the deep indigo fabrics of her skirts wilting like the petals of a dying flower as she momentarily allowed herself to wallow.

Tara.

Pam closed her troubled eyes, inhaling as deep as her corset would allow in an attempt to center herself.

It was a futile gesture.

Bittersweet eyes fringed with melancholy filtered out from a turbulent gaze of enigmatic blue-gray as pale lids fluttered back open. Snow-kissed fingers traced the slightly worn bar top as she reviewed the past two weeks.

It had been a fortnight fraught with troubled musings and the lick of oncoming danger.

Troubled musings because Pam did not even know how to begin dissecting what it was about Tara, her dark savior, that drew her to the vampire like a hapless moth to a flame.

Danger because her vampire's absence spawned the arrival of two new ones.

Pam shuddered, naked shoulders managing to quiver delicately even as its owner balked at the sudden wash of terror that ate into her muscles.

She was remembering the night fate had bestowed upon her, two more creatures of the underworld.

xxxxxxxx

_Power crawled into the parlor, gnarled fingers of energy that stole into the room like a stranger that had crept uninvited into a fair maiden's chambers. _

_It turned the atmosphere of the brothel toxic and sour, thickening the perfume-scented air until Pam felt as though she would suffocate from the oppressive sensation._

_For one wild, hopeful moment Pam thought that Tara had finally decided to make a reappearance._

_However, when she swiveled around on the barstool she was perched on, skirts of delicate Chinese silk crooning musically, she realized just how wrong, how different the power signature that engulfed her establishment was._

_Tara's power was heady, bold and utterly undeniable, of that there was no doubt. However, the power befitted to her dark savior didn't inspire in Pam, a choking sense of imminent dread and terror._

_Tension scrolled through her lithe frame as she completed her seated pivoted. One look into an unhinged pair of dark amber eyes sent fear spitting venom into Pam's veins and the blonde was suddenly wracked with a succession of hot and cold shakes._

"_May...may I help you?"_

_Try as she might, Pam couldn't erase the slight tremor in her voice as she spoke and she hated herself for allowing these vampires such transparent insight to her inner turmoil._

_However, what was done was done. There was nothing she could do but stand up and face the music._

_And the music was a pair of vampires that consisted of a man and woman._

_The woman, well dressed in upper middle class garments, was a deceptively dainty looking creature, all delicate cheekbones and the air of a genteel Southern belle. From a visual standpoint, she looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly._

_However, what sent the hairs on the back of Pam's neck rising was the air of wrongness that hung about the woman like a persistent, looming black cloud. A cloud that was edged with madness and steeped in vindictiveness._

_It attracted Pam's attention for all the wrong reasons._

_She suppressed a quiver as fear licked a path down her spine and turned wary and slightly panicked blue eyes onto the man._

_He proved to be equally, if not more frightening. _

_The man had a slight built, was neither tall nor short, devastatingly handsome or tragically ugly. He didn't possess the oppressive power of his female counterpart, didn't have that indomitable energy that immediately commanded one's subservience and respect._

_But there was an empty, deeply haunted look in his dark brown eyes that made Pam's skin crawl. He gave off the impression one would expect from a rabid, feral, wounded dog that was backed into a corner and had nowhere to go._

_He petrified Pam more than his companion. _

_Rabid dogs couldn't be reasoned with. They were all primitive instinct and impulsive action._

_Pam had no doubt that the male vampire would rip her throat out without so much as blinking._

_The blonde shivered and this time, she couldn't hide it. _

_Nausea clawed its way up her throat and Pam resisted the urge to bolt when the woman turned her full attention on her, gracing her with a beatific smile._

"_Are you the owner of this fine establishment?" the female vampire all but purred, her tone lightly salted with a delicate Southern drawl. Unlike Tara's stalwart Southern twang, which came across as carefree and homely, this vampire's Southern cadence came laced with arrogance and superiority. _

_The female vampire raked bold eyes unashamedly down Pam's attire of an understated parchment colored blouse with exaggerated sleeves and a gored skirt that flared lightly at the ends made from delicate Chinese silk and dyed a mysterious midnight blue._

_Pam fought against the urge to throw up as the woman continued her visual undressing of Pam. She was infinitely glad she had decided upon a more discreet wardrobe tonight._

"_Yes," she replied softly, courteously. She struggled to keep her tone steady, to project nothing but calm. "How may I help you?" she repeated her earlier inquiry._

_The second those words flowed out of her mouth, regret burned a hole through her traitorous tongue and guilt seared a scorching path down to her belly. The last thing Pam wanted to do was to offer any of her girls to these monsters. However, she knew that resistance was not an option; compliance was demanded. To refuse would only result in breeding trouble. _

_Trouble that Pam knew, would manifest in the form of slick crimson and high pitched screams._

"_We require something young. With a fresh face," the vampire woman almost sang out, her dark amber eyes already flitting over to the drawing room where Pam's girls lounged idly, waiting like living, breathing merchandise to be plucked off a pillowed chair or a lavishly furnished settee by an incoming customer._

_Something. Not __**someone**__._

_Pam swallowed. Hard._

"_My lover likes brunettes," the female vampire added. She reached over, ran a slender, almost fragile looking finger down the male vampire's cheek._

_His reaction to her touch roused Pam's curiosity._

_The male vampire looked as though he wanted to recoil from that wandering finger even as he leaned almost helplessly into it. The look in his eyes told Pam that he was simultaneously repulsed and aroused by his companion's affections, his body language screaming both yes and no._

_He loathed the female vampire. And yet, he loved her too. With equal intensity._

'_Well,' Pam thought, grateful for the sudden, if brief distraction. 'Isn't that a contradiction?'_

_The blonde gave herself a mental shake when she realized that she had yet to produce an answer. Pushing down another wave of guilt and nausea, she forced herself to look straight into those cruel amber eyes. _

"_If you would make your way to the drawing room, I believe Claire would satisfy both your preferences and needs."_

"_We thank you kindly," the female vampire replied. She curtsied, prompting the male vampire to sketch a stiff bow in Pam's direction before she hooked her dainty arm in the crook of his elbow and led him towards the drawing room._

_Pam watched them go, the churning feeling in her gut multiplying and growing to such a degree that she almost had to bend over to relieve the knots that formed in her stomach._

_The blonde was surprised to find that when the night ended, Claire emerged from Room 3, looking paler than normal and more than a little shell-shocked but intact and breathing._

_She should have known that that was an ominous sign all by itself._

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"Got a boost for a working girl?"

Pam jumped, startled. Blinking away the memories that still cavorted in her mind's eye, she turned to find Lucy, one of the brothel's newer additions, leaning against the bar, an exasperated if resigned expression painting her face.

Maternal affection assaulted Pam as she observed Lucy with sympathetic eyes. Reaching down, she flicked the cover back off of the ring she wore, revealing a small, white protrusion. She lifted her hand and Lucy bent, taking a quick sniff of the drug before pulling back, a small, relieved sigh escaping from her lips.

The drug wasn't meant to incapacitate one's senses but it relaxed the mind enough so that its owner could float away to dreams of a more pleasant nature whilst her body became property to be possessed and owned for as long as a client paid.

Pam reached up and wiped an excess smudge of the white powder from the corner of Lucy's nose before closing the ring. "Mr. Danton is prowling," she informed Lucy as she picked up her drink. "He asked for Claire; have you seen her?"

Pam took a healthy swallow of her glass of Campari as she waited for an answer. She allowed the alcohol to sooth frazzled nerves; lull her into a pleasant buzz.

"She's in Number 3," Lucy replied softly as she readjusted the shawl she had draped casually over her arms. "Almost an hour now."

The concerned tone in Lucy's voice sparked Pam's own anxiety and she almost choked on the mouthful of Campari as she hastily tried to swallow.

'Calm.' Pam reminded herself. 'Be calm.'

She set her glass down, making sure her actions were nonchalant, slow. A long-suffering sigh followed, a ruse to fool Lucy into thinking that a customer had merely gone over his allotted time instead of what Pam was really thinking.

Vampire. Death.

Pam wiped her hands on a napkin bunched up next to the bowl of barely eaten crab, stood and touched Lucy gently on her bare shoulder before making her way upstairs.

Her skirts rustled enticingly, her very posture screaming that of an experienced seductress as she sauntered past the drawing room, drawing more than one pair of eyes to her as she went.

Pam waited until she was halfway up the stairs and decidedly alone before shedding all traces of insouciance. Her heels echoed loudly on each wooden step, jarring her eardrums and sending her heart thumping erratically.

She reached the landing, turned left and made her way to door Number 3.

She knocked.

Once.

Twice.

"Claire?"

No response.

Panic dumped ice water into Pam's veins and terror gnawed at her nerves until her knees wanted to knock together and the urge to throw up became almost overwhelming.

But these were her girls. They were _**hers**_.

Pam grabbed the cool doorknob, twisted it smartly then pushed open the door.

She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

Lucy. Lying in a coagulating pool of her own blood that stained the once pristine white bed sheets, her naked body lying face up and covered head to toe in twin puncture marks.

Marks that could only come from a pair of vampire fangs.

Bile rose quick and without warning, the very breath from her lungs stolen as Pam gasped in shock, then choked out a pained cry, blue eyes smarting with tears.

The words, "god damn them," had barely fallen from crimson lips when the window to room Number 3 three burst open, bringing with it a sudden gust of wind that came tinged with musk, cloves and sandalwood.

Tara.

Cool arms twined around Pam, twin vines of flawless ebony as Tara situated herself in front of Pam, blocking her from the horrifying sight of Claire lying dead and decomposing on the bed.

"Look at me," Tara whispered, her voice soft but commanding. This close to so much recently shed blood, Tara was having trouble controlling her bloodlust. Her gums ached where her fangs currently lay sheathed but she was damned if she let them protract in front of the blonde.

Tara tightened her embrace around Pam, forcing enough pressure around Pam's waist that it momentarily snapped her out of her terror-induced stupor. "Look at me, Pamela."

The blonde was proving stubborn, wide azure blue eyes aglow with disbelief and unadulterated horror as they stared over Tara's shoulder at the grisly display.

"Look. At. Me."

Stricken blue eyes snapped onto whorls of midnight, tears already pooling at its corners.

"That's it," Tara crooned, her voice low, soothing. "Good girl." Obsidian eyes never leaving shimmering and wet orbs of blue, Tara took a step forward, compelling Pam to take one back.

The entwined pair continued in this fashion until they were back out on the landing.

"You're alright," Tara whispered. She inhaled sharply, deliberately using Pam's scent to mask the almost overwhelming aroma of blood.

Lavender. Honeysuckle. Vanilla.

Taking another deep breath of that powerfully female scent, Tara kept her eyes fastened on Pam's, never once breaking the deeply intimate contact. Her strong arms never moved from their encirclement around the blonde's waist as she gazed deeply, reassuringly into turbulent pools of steel gray and winter blue. "You're okay."

And Pam, Pam who prided herself on being strong, on taking matters into her own hands, collapsed in Tara's arms, her lithe frame shaking with the force of her sobs.

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Tara took care of the body.

Pam didn't ask questions, didn't want the answer to those questions.

She sent her girls home early, didn't protest when Tara paid off the few straggling suitors that were rather indignant of being denied the pleasures of the flesh.

She was in shock.

But even amidst her distress, Pam's mind was able to clearly remember what Tara's arms around her felt like.

What it felt like to be held by Tara.

Safe. Protected.

Cherished.

"How are you?"

The sound of Tara's voice so close to her ear made her jump and whilst she managed to stifle the scream that tore itself out from the confines of her throat, she was less successful in keeping her balance on the barstool.

Tara reached out, lightning quick, as Pam teetered dangerously on her perch on the barstool. She steadied the blonde, righted her equilibrium until Pam was ensconced safely back on her seat.

"I apologize," Tara offered, her tone regretful. "I did not mean to startle you."

Pam didn't answer; she simply shifted on the bar stool and returned to staring blankly at the bar top.

"I cleaned the room and replaced the sheets," Tara informed the brothel owner quietly.

When Pam failed to answer for a second time, Tara simply braced one hand on the bar top then hopped over the bar with the easy grace of a cheetah.

The unexplained act was disquieting enough for Pam to shake herself out of her catatonia.

"What are you doing?"

"I've heard that a hot toddy cures many ailments," Tara replied calmly as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing toned arms and a wealth of dark skin that rippled and shone like black gold.

Pam watched, slightly stupefied as a _vampire_ set about mixing her a drink. Tara seemed so at ease behind the bar and dressed in a stiff white shirt and a black waistcoat, her attire fitted the necessary requirements required of a bartender.

Except she wasn't a bartender. She was a vampire.

Just like the ones that killed Claire.

Pam dug her fingers into the wood of the bar top, wanting nothing more than to banish the events of tonight from her mind.

When Tara set a slightly steaming tea cup in front of her, Pam stared at it suspiciously.

"What did you put in it?"

The blonde took a cursory sniff, detecting from the steaming cup, honey and lemon along with a trace of a spice she couldn't quite identify.

Tara pushed the cup closer to Pam. "Lemon, honey, cloves, water and a dash of whisky," she listed off. Dark fingers initiated another nudge against the side of the hot cup. "Drink."

Pam drank, almost sagging in relief as the surprisingly delicious beverage went down easy and warmed her from the inside out. The drink proved the necessary antidote to her horrors that had befell her that night.

"Thank you." The blonde's voice was quiet, barely audible but there was no mistaking the note of gratitude that rang loud and clear in her currently muddled American cadence.

"There is no need." Tara's voice was equally soft as she observed the blonde from the other side of the bar. When a loose tendril of corn silk colored hair fell over Pam's forehead, dark fingers twitched, itching to smooth it away.

Instead, she indulged in tracing Pam's profile, watching carefully and imprinting to memory the easy manner in which she picked up the tea cup, bringing it to full lips that puckered slightly as they blew on the hot beverage. She watched, dormant embers of desire stirring within her as those lips parted to accept the flow of liquid that spilled from the lip of the tea cup into her mouth, her throat working delicately as she swallowed.

Tara had never seen a more beautiful creature.

The vampire vowed then and there that she would protect this woman, this creature both strong and fragile, delicate yet firm, prickly yet inviting.

For the vampires that had unwittingly caused the blonde such distress, Tara would demand reparations.

By any means necessary.

She was startled when Pam spoke.

"Your timing was rather impeccable, Ms. Thornton." Now that the hot toddy was working its magic, Pam was able to steady her nerves, to compile up a neat list of questions and musings of the night. She glanced up from her cup, ran smack into two orbs of intense pitch and had to re-steady her composure all over again.

"How did you know?"

"I caught a faint scent of your establishment laced with blood staining the San Francisco night air," Tara responded, her voice still quiet but now carrying an undercurrent of rage. She stamped it down though, kept it at a low hum for the last thing she wanted to do was to petrify the still shaken blonde sitting in front of her.

Tara failed to mention the alarm and stark naked fear that seized her by the throat when she caught a whiff of that smell. It was pure luck, nothing more than mere coincidence that the wind had been blowing eastwards and Tara had been on its recieving end. She was decidedly glad that the blood had not come from Pam but it was a bittersweet victory. The girl who had been drained had been one of Pam's girls and judging from the disturbed if somewhat blank expression on the blonde's face, she had cared for the girl a lot.

In fact, Tara knew that Pam cared for all of her girls a lot. It came with the territory of being a madam. The girls were her wares, her way of securing a means of capital but they were also hers to protect.

Tara knew a lot about wanting to protect.

"I promise you there will be retribution for what they did to your girl," the vampire told Pam. Her voice was flat as blade and just as sharp as she voiced aloud her oath.

Pam answered her with a trembling of naked pale shoulders and a duck of a blonde head.

"How are you?" the vampire repeated her earlier question. She rested her elbows on the worn bar top, rested either side of her jaw on her upturned palms then watched as Pam let their eyes meet for mere moments before they disappeared behind half-closed lids, that beautiful blue-gray gaze falling back to contemplate the steam rising from her beverage.

"It seems I am in your debt...again," Pam murmured softly. She plucked the lemon slice from where it dangled precariously on the lip of the tea cup, dragged it through her cooling hot toddy and watched as it created ripples and whorls in the dark liquid.

"Pamela."

Blue eyes shot up, the utterance of her full name from Tara's lips so beguiling that she couldn't help but stare.

Pam was thrown back to reality when a dark hand reached over to cover her warm one that was cupping the side of the tea cup.

Tara's touch was cool, smooth as silk, whispering across pale, soft skin like half-forgotten dreams. Touching Tara, having Tara touch her was like petting a wild beast.

Fascinating yet fearsome.

The crackle of power that licked up her arm reminded Pam of that.

She drew her hand away. "Don't call me that," she admonished tiredly.

Tara frowned as she pulled her hand back. "Have I not earned the right to call you by your given name?" A hint of a temper bubbled underneath her even tone but the expression on Tara's face remained eerily serene, save for the almost indiscernible crease that appeared between her eyes.

"Where have you been the past fortnight?"

The question came out suspiciously like a lover's accusation, as though Pam were questioning Tara's fidelity.

The blonde bit down on her lower lip, wishing she could take back her hastily constructed question.

"I was under the impression that you wanted to be left alone," Tara revealed. She took two steps back then leaned against the bar shelf. Half in shadow and half in the glow of the few lights that were left on in the parlor, Tara's face became only partially lit, enough to hint at the beautiful features of her face whilst leaving the more intrinsic details to imagination. "Was I mistaken?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Pam's mouth couldn't help but quirk upwards as she regarded Tara through her lashes. It was the first time she had seen the vampire other than composed and it made her more human, more relatable to Pam. Crimson lips once again twitched and though there was no hint of a flirtation in that brief smile, Pam still looked away, unnerved by the twinge of interest that burped up an obnoxious note in her heart.

"Well?" Tara prompted when Pam didn't answer. The vampire leaned her sinewy frame against the bar shelf doing a piss poor imitation of appearing casual. With her body coiled and tension demanding a rigid line of her shoulders, there was no mistaking the fact that Tara was on the defensive.

"Perhaps I was too rash in my dismissal of you," Pam acknowledged. She dropped the lemon slice into her drink and straightened. "I apologize, Ms. Thornton."

"Tara," the vampire corrected. She uncrossed her arms, suddenly appearing more relaxed than she did seconds ago. "Just Tara will do."

"Tara," Pam breathed out. The name was sweet on her tongue and this time, it stayed sweet, lingering like a finely aged wine that enticed her taste buds into a hypnotic dance.

Tara.

"Will you permit me to escort you home...Pamela?"

Tara wasn't going to take no for an answer but she wasn't about to exert dominance over the independence Pam held onto so dearly. So instead, she settled for politeness, hoping that a courteously delivered request would soften the edges of the blonde's sharp tongue.

Of course the vampire ruined her well-mannered execution by deliberately sounding out the blonde's full name but it was too late to do anything about it.

The deliberate voicing of her full name sent a shot of annoyance trilling through her but Pam clamped it down.

The blonde stood, pushed back her cup of hot toddy and flicked her lightly curled hair over her shoulders. "If you must," she told Tara, her tone coming off a little snootier that was necessary but the fact was, she was grateful for the vampire's protection.

Even if she wouldn't admit it.

Tara smiled; it was a victorious smile, one she kept hidden in the dark of the shadows but her eyes twinkled with her victory.

"I suppose you want to change before you leave?" Tara inquired politely as she took Pam's cup and dropped it into the sink behind the bar.

"I do."

Tara nodded, reached across the bar top for Pam's hand then brought it to her lips. "I'm honored that you have given me the privilege of escorting your home, Ms. Beaufort." She kissed at the soft, magnolia skin beneath her lips, repressed another victorious smile when she felt a tremor run through Pam then let go.

"I'll wait for you outside," Tara announced.

She vaulted back over the patrons' side of the bar, her movements carrying all the delicate grace of a ballerina and the sleek power of an athlete.

Pam stared.

Tara bestowed upon the dumbstruck blonde that half smile, half smirk that Pam personally detested then made her way out of the parlor, absentmindedly licking her lips clean of the flavor of honeysuckle, lavender and vanilla. So caught up in her victory, the vampire couldn't help but whistle out a low tune as she swaggered out the door, relishing the feel of Pam's narrowed blue eyes boring into her back.

**TBC**


	4. Stepping Stones

**A/N** – I have found the key to writing this story! Two words: Celine Dion. *nods* This woman's dulcet tones is apparently all I need to bust out a serious can of romance. Combine her romantic inclinations and Meat Loaf's penchant for the dramatic; we have the perfect vibe for a Victorian romance. *laughs* Also, once again, thank you for all your generous reviews. Speaking of which, I think there might be something wrong with FF's review alert email delivery because the number of reviews left for the previous chapter doesn't seem to match the number of email alerts I've received from the site. So, if I haven't replied to your review, I apologize. Now, without further ado, here is chapter 4. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 4 – Stepping Stones**

Pam shivered as she stepped out into the frigid night air, her frilled white, high collared, tailored shirtwaist blouse and thick, navy blue woolen skirt doing little to shield her from the bitter cold. She wrapped her tasseled tweed shawl more securely around her shoulders, lapis blue eyes shot through with gray already scanning the pavement for Tara as she locked the brothel doors.

And sure enough, there was her dark savior, Tara's sinewy frame emerging from the dark, a shadow that had suddenly found substance.

Sometime over the past week, the pair had fallen into a perfectly coordinated routine.

Tara was always there at the end of the night, waiting to escort Pam home. She was always there, waiting for Pam, greeting the always tired, often beleaguered and sometimes foul-tempered blonde with a deep, respectful bow, a lingering but polite kiss to the back of her hand and a flash of that winsome if slightly impish smile.

It was quickly becoming a familiarity in her life that Pam found herself clinging and looking forward to.

Tonight proved to be no different. As Pam made her way down the steps, Tara was there waiting, reaching out with a chivalrous hand to guide the blonde down the last step.

"Good evening, Ms. Beaufort," Tara said by way of greeting as she bowed deeply.

"Good evening, Ms. Thornton," Pam replied in kind, heart fluttering slightly as Tara straightened and bestowed upon her a charming grin that made those intense dark eyes twinkle like black jewels.

Tara lifted the pale hand she still cradled in her palm, brought it to her lips and brushed a soft kiss to alabaster knuckles.

"Would you do me the pleasure of allowing me to escort you home, Ms. Beaufort?" Tara inquired cheekily, a devastating grin pulled unashamedly across her face as she thumbed a line over pale knuckles, relishing the feel of warm, soft skin.

Pam released a dramatic long suffering sigh, adding to its effect by rolling her cerulean blue eyes. "If you must," she replied, trying to sound tetchy but the small smile playing about her lips ruined the feigned vexation she applied to her tone.

The brief repartee had become a nightly banter between them, both parties delighting in the other's wit as they indulged in brief, but pleasurable seconds of verbal volleying.

"'Tis a cold night," Tara observed quietly as she dropped Pam's hand, feeling not for the first time, that pang of loss when she severed the tactile contact.

"'Tis indeed," Pam murmured, absentmindedly wrapping her shawl tighter around her.

The impromptu talk about San Francisco's less than welcoming weather brought to Pam's attention, Tara's attire for the evening.

"Why are you dressed like a farm hand?"

Curious if somewhat perplexed blue eyes ran a critical course down the length of Tara's front, gleaning from it, a loose off-white, slightly rumpled shirt with its sleeves rolled hallway up dark muscled arms under an unbuttoned, plain black, single-breasted waistcoat. The vampire completed this decidedly working class outfit with a loose pair of common brown work pants, suspenders that dangled on either side and scruffy, dark brown work boots that looked a little worse for wear.

Tara topped off her attire with a tweed farmer's cap, worn slightly crooked, her abundant dark hair tucked messily beneath it so that loose tendrils of ink-black hair framed her frame.

Polished and sophisticated garments folded Tara into a package that was both devastating and charming if a little intimidating. But, dressed like a commoner, and looking rather unkempt, Tara was positively dashing to look at.

Pam bit down on her lower lip as warmth built in her belly and yearnings of a decidedly forbidden nature stirred within her.

"I'm paying homage to my roots," Tara replied softly. She shifted her other arm a fraction and with a start, Pam realized that draped over her forearm was thick woolen over-frock coat.

She knew that as a vampire, Tara was impervious to the cold. That meant that the coat was for her.

The warmth in her belly billowed to engulf her entire body and she fought against a pleased blush. Tara was taking care of her and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she liked it. Liked it a lot.

"You grew up on a farm?" Eager curiosity plagued Pam's husky lilt as she focused back on their conversation. There was so much about Tara that she had yet to learn but despite her offhand and nonchalant questions she had projected to Tara over the past week, the vampire had yet to reveal much or anything about herself.

"Perhaps."

Tara's voice was noncommittal but there was a discernible melancholy note in her stalwart Southern drawl that gave off a salty tang of loneliness that made Pam's heart ache.

However, before the blonde could contemplate the issue further, Tara's brisk, if still polite tone snapped the blonde back to the present.

"Come," the vampire instructed gently as she took the over-frock coat in her hands and shook it open. She held it out, waited until Pam turned and presented her with her back then draped it carefully over the blonde's slightly shaking shoulders, ensuring that the blonde was carefully bundled beneath the thick material.

"Let's get you out of this cold night air," Tara whispered quietly as she once again took Pam's hand and tucked it in the crook of her elbow. "It would be in very poor form for me to expose you to the arctic breaths of Mother Nature any longer than necessary."

Pam nodded but said nothing as they began a leisurely stroll down the pavement, not quite hurrying but not quite dawdling either.

As they walked, Pam allowed Tara to guide her, trusting that the vampire wouldn't let her slip on a puddle or trip on an upturned cobblestone.

Letting Tara hold the reins gave Pam the opportunity to study her dark savior's profile.

Over the past week, their walks had been filled with both conversation and silence. Sometimes they talked, other times they didn't. On days where silence fueled their walks, there wasn't an uncomfortableness that made Pam squirm but a lingering strand of awkwardness still twined around the pair.

'It was to be expected,' she mused to herself as Tara led her around a muddy splotch. They hardly knew each other, were barely beginning to form a connection.

On the days where they did converse, Pam found Tara to be a skillful conversationalist. It allowed the blonde to indulge in her refined intellect, to regale Tara with conversations that bespoke of a wealthy education and upper class upbringing.

It allowed Pam to indulge in a life that she could no longer call her own.

Tonight though, their walk was fraught with only the echoes of their footsteps, the vampire being in a decidedly pensive and brooding mood.

It wasn't anything new Pam had seen from her dark savior before. However, what piqued the blonde's curiosity was that there was something different about Tara's silence tonight.

As the pair turned the corner, Pam caught a brief glimpse of full lips that parted to allow a near silent sigh to escape into the cold, night air, Tara's eyes momentarily going half-mast as though she were recollecting something, a memory perhaps.

Then, just as quickly, the vampire's face smoothed out, returning to its usual serene expression that both calm and intimidating.

It was that very expression coupled with the vampire's almost palpable power that kept straggling drunks and would-be criminals away from the strolling pair as they traversed the dark streets of San Francisco. Directed at Pam, Tara's power invoked in the blonde nothing but a sense of security, safety and warmth. But for others, for those that though to harm either woman, Tara's power somehow managed to reach into the dormant part of a human's primitive psyche, long buried by the cultivation of civilization and technology. It reached deep, touched that primitive part of a human that instantly made them wary of Tara.

It was the inbred instinct a prey had whenever a predator was in close vicinity.

It warned the prey to keep a wide berth.

Pam's brow furrowed when Tara's face rippled with another spasm of unreadable emotion. It made the blonde itch to question Tara's twice brief reveal of her inner musings but she had no wish to speak out of turn. Instead, she concentrated on their walk, on what it felt like to be by Tara's side, to feel that indomitable energy wrap around her, cocooning her, shielding her from the dangers that gave the night its dark and sharp edges.

She also found herself concentrating deeply on the way a lone, dark finger absentmindedly traced nonsensical patterns on the hand she had tucked into the crook of Tara's elbow.

The unexpected but not unwelcomed touch was new. Tara had always respected her need for minimal tactile contact, had never once moved from briefly grasping her hand to bestow a gentlemanly kiss before releasing the appendage as good manners dictated. So this, this almost subconscious caress of a dark finger against soft, smooth pale skin was unexpected.

Unexpected, but nice.

"Have the rogues made a reappearance this week?"

Tara's low alto trickling like music into the cold night air startled Pam and she jumped, footsteps faltering slightly as she sought to compose herself.

Tara slowed their gait, turning a concerned and apologetic obsidian gaze onto the blonde. "I apologize, Ms. Beaufort," she said softly. "I did not mean to startle you."

Pam smiled and it came across both sheepish and embarrassed if somewhat charmed. Tara looked like a kicked puppy as she stared at Pam, as if she were waiting for a tongue lashing. "It's alright," she reassured Tara, resisting the urge to smooth away the slight frown she could see creasing midnight kissed skin. "I am partly to blame; I let my mind wander from me." She smiled again, crimson lips pulling up at the corners. "And to answer your question, no. For that I am thankful."

Tara nodded. "Perhaps they've moved on."

Pam nodded "Perhaps."

'They had better,' Tara thought viciously to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was to have to mark Pam's establishment as her hunting territory. She was quite sure that the blonde would not appreciate such a gesture or declaration, necessary though it might be.

It would also shed more light onto the fact that Tara belonged to the same species of creature that had so carelessly murdered an innocent girl.

"Tell me what you were thinking about so deeply," Tara requested, as she forced the more unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind. Her voice was soft, soothing as she addressed Pam, their stroll naturally resuming as Tara took a purposeful step forward. "What insightful ruminations have you in their thrall this evening?"

Pam turned and studied Tara's profile, wondering whether to put her honest foot forward or to craft out an answer that would ensure smooth sailing.

"I'm afraid the occupation of my thoughts are you, Ms. Thornton."

'Mama always said that honesty was the best policy,' Pam mused sardonically to herself as Tara's head turned in her direction, dark eyes betraying the vampire's surprise at the blonde's blunt admission.

"What about me?" Tara inquired genially as she hopped down onto the crude cobblestone street, pausing only to readjust the over-frock coat that had slipped slightly from Pam's shoulders. Then, she assisted Pam off the pavement, glanced in both directions before guiding Pam across the street.

"You're sad."

The bold observation caused dark shoulders to tense slightly but to her credit, Tara shrugged off the tension, helped Pam back onto the pavement on the other side of the street then led them down a narrow side-street.

"Tell me what troubles you," Pam whispered. Ever since they met, Tara had offered her nothing but her assistance, protection and companionship and the blonde wanted nothing more than to return some of the vampire's generosity.

Tara sighed as she ran the tip of her finger down the pale hand tucked in the crook of her elbow. "The receding days of summer always pickles me in nostalgia," she disclosed quietly. She touched the tip of her finger to the tip of Pam's, let her touch linger before drawing away.

"Does the month of August hold a special place in your heart?"

Tara shrugged. "Perhaps."

Pam blew out an exaggerated breath at the one word answer, slightly displeased and more than a little hurt that Tara seemed to have closed herself off from Pam. Her inner British girl was similarly miffed and wanted nothing more than to utilize her quick tongue in order to provoke a reaction.

Pam shut her up. The last thing she wanted was to alienate the vampire she had grown to care about.

As if sensing Pam's ire, Tara turned, orbs of pitch boring into the side of Pam's head until the blonde turned in response, eyes fashioned from pure sapphire meeting whorls of midnight.

The haunted look in Tara's eyes took Pam's breath away.

"What is it, Tara?"

There was an acute sadness in Tara's eyes, as tantalizing as a mouthwatering treat. It mirrored Pam's own sorrow and she smiled a sad smile at the comparison.

It seemed they shared a similar melancholy, this vampire and her. Perhaps it was what drew Tara to the blonde in the first place.

Tara slowed them to a stop directly under a lamppost, mesmerized by the understanding in Pam's eyes even though she had yet to divulge what it was that ailed her. She unhooked the blonde's hand from the crook of her elbow, an unspoken request for some distance.

Pam took a step back, right into the golden-yellow glow that made a distorted circle on the cobblestone street. She sensed that Tara needed the space, infinitesimal as it was.

For a long moment, neither woman spoke.

Pam kept silent because she was waiting, waiting for Tara to reveal to her the troubles that hounded her dark savior's mind, that marred her otherwise clear and flawless midnight gaze.

Tara was silent because Pam's beauty had robbed her of her tongue. A poet could so easily and eagerly describe the beauty that was her blonde companion. The way the warm golden light from the lamppost loved her lithe frame, outlining it in a perfect silhouette of shadows and gold. The corn silk color of her hair as it cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. The deep ocean blue of her eyes. Her snow-kissed skin. The haunting sadness that hung about her like a winter's cloak.

But for Tara, the sight of Pam killed any and all words inside of her, rendering her mute and leaving her heart hurting and her mind full of lost echoes.

She had that power over Tara. The power to make her dead heart beat, if only in memory.

"Tell me what demons have ensnared you tonight."

It was a quiet plea, Pam's tone no louder than a hushed whisper but Tara caught every word.

Dark eyes sought out chips of ice blue.

"I have no recollection of my human life."

Pam inhaled sharply, her reaction stemming more from the despondency in Tara's Southern drawl than the vampire's confession.

"None?"

Tara shook her head, a resigned and bittersweet smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. "Unfortunately, no, I'm afraid." A scruffed up boot kicked at an upturned cobblestone. "Perhaps that is why this time of the year troubles me so. I yearn for something I can never hope to remember."

Pam swallowed, throat working visibly as she stared at Tara and all her beautiful sadness. "I'm truly sorry," she offered. It was a useless vocalization, utterly inadequate to counter the haunted look in Tara's eyes but it was the best she could do.

Tara shrugged, readjusted the cap on her head then reached for Pam's head, returning it back to the crook of her elbow. "The apology should be mine," she returned softly as she urged Pam back into a slow amble. "I did not mean to burden you with the shackles of my immortal coil."

"We are acquaintances are we not?" Pam pointed out as shadows momentarily engulfed them, the end of the street lacking a lamppost to light their way. "You are allowed to confide in me."

Tara stopped again and this time, in the dark, the features of her face were barely discernible save for two dark orbs that flashed with determination and conviction.

"I seek more than just your friendship, Pamela."

Blunt and to the point, Tara not even attempting to mask her true intentions towards Pam.

For a moment, a discombobulated expression dropped over Pam's face. Then, realization sank in as Tara's words registered with her.

Pam swallowed. Hard.

"I cannot," she whispered. She tried to pull her hand away from Tara but wouldn't let her go. "Let me go," she demanded weakly.

"I can't," Tara declared. She bore a deep obsidian gaze into frightened pools of cerulean. "I won't."

Pam's demand bespoke of wanting to be released physically from Tara's grasp but Tara's responding answer insinuated that she wasn't about to let Pam _go_. Physically, emotionally or otherwise.

The revelation made Pam's heart sink.

"You don't want a whore," Pam tried to reason and resisted the urge to flinch and cower when Tara turned suddenly angry eyes on her.

"Don't call yourself that." The vampire's sinewy frame trembled with repressed rage, Tara wanting nothing more than to erase every last trace of self-disgust and unworthiness she could see in etched into turbulent orbs of steel-gray and winter-blue.

"That's what I am."

"That's what you _do_. That is not who you are." A dark jaw clenched almost painfully as Tara fought tooth and nail to keep her fangs in check. "Your profession does not define who you are." Dark eyes were overwhelmingly intense as they lasered into fathomless pools of azure blue. "Don't let this stepping stone in your life dictate you, Pamela."

Pam let her shoulders slump, let Tara tighten her grip she had on Pam's hand. "Why do you care so much?" she rasped out in defeat. "What am I to you?"

"Everything," Tara replied simply, unconcerned by the way Pam tensed visibly. She ignored the blonde's aversion to her confession, returned Pam's hand to the crook of her elbow then tugged until Pam's feet forced her to move, to follow the forward momentum initiated by Tara's moving body.

"I want you to be everything," Tara added, her tone painfully conversational for such a deeply intimate confession as she guided a now rendered mute Pam up a rather challenging hill, one of the many that made up the landscape of the city of San Francisco. "But for now, I'll settle for being the one privileged enough to escort you home."

Tears pooled in her eyes as Pam kept her gaze directed stubbornly forward. She couldn't look at Tara, couldn't stand the open nakedness that was evident in those dark eyes as the vampire revealed just what her true intentions towards Pam were.

The blonde had never been more petrified by a confession and the urge to bolt was so consuming that she nearly vibrated out of her shoes even as she continued to allow Tara to walk her home.

Tara could feel the confusion wafting off Pam like a potent scent, could almost taste her conflict and fear as it salted the increasingly cold night air. Truth be told, she did not plan on so plainly confessing her intentions towards the blonde but caught up in the heat of the moment and weakened by the sting of melancholy that plagued her that night, Tara was helpless as her throat conjured up the words her tongue orchestrated into a series of vocal sounds before pushing them out from between parted lips.

However, what's done was done. She couldn't take the words back and if she were to be truthfully honest with herself, she didn't want to.

Ten more minutes ticked by in thick silence before the sight of a row of semi-detached Victorian houses came into sight. Pam's house was sequestered in the middle of this arrangement of modest houses, her door painted a pale pink, its color akin to the lightest dusting of a blush that stained a maiden's cheeks.

Tara dropped Pam off at the bottom of the three steps that led up to Pam's front door.

"I bid you a good night, Ms. Beaufort," Tara addressed Pam formally and though her tone was cautionary, the small smile she graced the blonde with was genuine.

"Good night, Ms. Thornton," Pam replied just as formally, her posture stiff, her head ducked to avoid letting Tara see the tears that still shimmered in her eyes.

When she remembered that she still had Tara's over-frock coat draped around her shoulders, she shook it off, folded it and blinked away the tears that smarted her eyes before turning and handing the coat back to the vampire.

Tara took the proffered item, slung it over her arm then took advantage of Pam's still outstretched hand to grasp it lightly. She bowed deeply at the waist, ghosted a soft, lingering kiss to the back of a pale hand and indulged in a brief inhale of Pam's intoxicating scent before letting go.

Dark eyes watched as Pam snatched her hand back immediately after Tara straightened then observed as Pam walked up to her front door.

When Tara heard the rustle of keys followed by the soft snick of an opening door, she turned and began walking away.

"Tara?"

The vampire froze at the quiet, tremulous utterance of her name. She pivoted, dark eyes immediately finding blue ones with unerring ease and accuracy. "Yes?"

"Why me?"

Pam's voice was choked with tears, laden with uncertainty and bursting with bewilderment fringed with disbelief. She wanted an answer, needed an explanation and knew, without a shred of a doubt that she would not take kindly to being kept in suspense for an entire day and half of a night.

For a moment Tara said nothing, dark eyes simply boring into a stormy gaze slathered with enigmatic blues and writhing shades of gray. Then, Tara smiled, a smile that seemed to hold all the secrets to the universe.

"Why not you?" she whispered lovingly before she turned and walked away.

**TBC**


	5. Push and Pull

**A/N –** So...anybody a Greys fan? Who's still hyperventilating into a paper bag? Damn my mother for getting me hooked on this show; I'm now so emotionally invested I turn into a train wreck at every season finale. Then AFTER the season finale I go hysterical for a good couple of hours because the next season airs in what, September? *sigh* My television woes aside, here's the latest chapter. Enjoy and have a swell weekend.

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**Chapter 5 – Push and Pull**

Pam was dressed to kill.

Clad in a tight blue silk, black lace hourglass corset and a full skirt that was dark as sin and rippled around her like black water, Pam caught the eye of every man that walked into her establishment that evening.

The blonde wore no jewelry save for a pendant that adorned her slender neck. It hung from a plain gold link chain and featured an elongated oval moonstone with bluish overtones caught in the middle of a flowing golden frame accented with specks of deep-blue sapphires. Hanging below was a lone teardrop, freshwater pearl. It dangled low enough to tease and dip into an abundant cleavage whenever Pam took a breath.

It meant to draw attention to the blonde's ample bosom.

It worked like a charm.

"Your dinner, Ms. Beaufort," Nicolas addressed Pam as he set a steaming bowl of crab in front of her. He finished by pouring her a glass of her usual Campari then bestowed upon her a slight bow before moving away to tend to his other customers.

Pam shifted on the barstool, full skirts rustling against its abundant material, its sound drawing attention to the blonde, every pair of eyes that belonged to each man that sat at the bar.

She shot her admirers a coy, close-lipped smile that would have shamed the Mona Lisa. It was a smile that was both amused and calculated, warning its receivers that behind all the seductive playfulness lay a sharp and intellectual mind.

It was a smile that made the men she was force to bed, fall to their knees.

It was a smile that made Pam feel in control.

It was a smile she wielded often.

The heat of all the men's desirous gazes caressed Pam's lithe frame like multiple hands as she returned her attention to her meal. She had barely reached into the bowl of crab when suddenly, the atmosphere in the room became charged with electricity.

The snapping of all eyes towards the front door of the brothel was almost audible as Tara walked in, looking devastatingly handsome and unapologetically regal in formal charcoal striped trousers, a black fitted frock coat over a white waistcoat, stiff, detachable white wing-collar dress shirt, a white ascot and dress boots.

Topping off her ensemble was a sleek black cane with a silver tip, pristine white gloves and a flat brimmed, black silk top hat.

She put every man's perfectly coordinated attire to shame.

"Thank you, James," Tara murmured in greeting as the doorman took her hat, gloves and cane. She palmed him a coin, graced him with a polite smile then dismissed him, dark eyes already wandering into the adjoining parlor where Pam was sequestered, creamy pale shoulders naked and ramrod stiff.

Her body language informed Tara that the blonde knew of her arrival.

Knew and was pointedly keeping her back to her.

Tara was undaunted by the silent dismissal.

Power slithered into the parlor, raw and undeniable as the northern wind as Tara entered, turning the air viscous with electricity. More than one customer hurried out of the room as Tara approached the bar, the wild, untamable energy rolling off the vampire proving too overwhelming for prolonged exposure.

Tara made no attempts to mask her aura as she sauntered straight up to where Pam sat.

"Good evening, Ms. Beaufort."

The amicable greeting coupled with Tara's soothing, low alto skated shivers down Pam's arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She detested the way her body so easily gave in to the temptation that manifested in the form of one well-dressed vampire.

Pam gritted her teeth, the grinding of her molars almost making an audible appearance, but forced herself to turn, to face Tara.

The few individuals that had dared remain seated at the bar had taken to openly staring at the pair, their gazes running from curiosity to admiration to jealousy to a befuddling combination of all three.

Pam didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than was necessary.

Calling forth a kernel of politeness, she forced her tongue to soften, curbed an acerbic remark that burned like acid at the back of her lips and settled instead for a commonplace reply.

"Ms. Thornton," Pam gritted out, her words genial but her voice unfortunately coming off this side of curt.

She went visibly rigid when Tara reached for her hand, plucking stiff fingers from where they had unconsciously curled into the worn wood. There was a brief moment of animated suspension as Tara simply held her hand in hers, as if testing its weight, memorizing its softness.

Then, the vampire lifted the pale hand of snow-kissed skin and grazed her full lips over the protrusion of alabaster knuckles, lingering long enough to elicit a tremor from its owner.

Pam hated herself for the flutter that stroked the walls of her heart at the touch of Tara's lips to her skin, hated how Tara could so easily worm past steel-enforced walls with a simple touch.

She hated how Tara made her feel.

She hated that she hated how Tara made her feel.

"If I may be so bold," Tara began convivially, snapping Pam out of her misery. Wary blue eyes watched as orbs of pitch appraised Pam's seated form, starting with the pendant on her neck, the delicate designs curling over the front of her corset to the flowing and abundant materials of midnight hued skirt.

Normally, such open and naked appraisal of her garments would incite in Pam, a combined sense of revulsion and deep satisfaction.

When Tara did it, Pam felt nothing but cherished.

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to garner a near silent wince.

If Tara noticed the trivial crack in her body language, she didn't comment. Her dark hand still cradling Pam's pale one, she sought out eyes dipped in ocean blue. "You look absolutely enchanting tonight."

Such unrepentant sincerity.

It nearly broke Pam's resolve.

Clenching her teeth so hard that her jaw ached, Pam hardened the look in her eye. "May I have my hand back?" Her voice was stiff as her posture and just as icy as the expression she had painted over her face.

Tara dropped her hand and Pam immediately swung back to face the bar, missing the perplexed and slightly hurt expression that filtered past Tara's dark eyes. Instead, she stared fiercely into her bowl of crab, tears smarting her eyes, causing her hands to tremble and her stomach to twist itself into knots.

Needing something to do, Pam made use of her meal. She reached into the bowl and snapped off a crab leg with more vehemence than necessary.

Silence reigned supreme, Pam diligently and deliberately ignoring Tara as she eased succulent meat from the shell of the crab with expert teases of her fingers and tongue.

Tara in turn simply observed the clearly fuming blonde, an organic statue sculpted from obsidian and shadows as she stood silent and unmoving.

She was beginning to learn from this episode that Pam retreated behind walls of ice and steel when confronted with the faces of her emotions.

She also knew, intuitively, that nothing short of a miracle would force Pam from behind those carefully constructed walls.

But it wasn't in Tara's nature to surrender. So, instead, she spoke.

"What does that taste like?" Genuine curiosity steeped each word but the blithe manner in which the question was delivered came out slightly strained.

Pam flinched at the inquiry but her physical response stemmed from the way Tara's low alto seeped like fine nectar from her lips, oozing into Pam's pores like a poison she had no hope of curing herself from.

The blonde was tempted not to answer but manners ingrained from her upbringing forced Pam to act otherwise.

"It tastes like crab," she groused out testily as she reached for her glass of Campari, taking a healthy, if deliberately nonchalant swallow the minute the glass reached her crimson lips.

Her inner snobby British girl had come out to play.

"And what does crab taste like, Ms. Beaufort?" Tara prompted as she shifted closer to the sequestered blonde, her movements barely discernible, save for the sudden spike of power that bespoke of the presence of a low simmering temper as Pam continued to dismiss her presence.

Pam shivered as Tara's energy greased her lithe frame, running down her naked arms like wet tongues that left a liquid residue.

The blonde wasn't entirely sure if her shiver was a dictation of her desire or fear.

"Ms. Beaufort?"

Pam sighed in resignation, feeling defeat creep in at the edges of her vision. She was beginning to discover that Tara was like a dog with a bone when she pursued something and knew that this simple conversation could take an ugly turn should the blonde continue to sulk.

"It's sweet," she finally explained, exasperation and more than a little vexation coloring her tone as she popped a shred of white meat into her mouth, chewed delicately then swallowed. "Tender. Juicy if cooked correctly."

Tara nodded, looking very much like a studious pupil given instructions as she observed Pam lick at her damp fingers. "And is crab your preferred form of...nourishment?"

The question was phrased oddly, Tara's stalwart Southern drawl tripping slightly over the words and it was a curious enough incident that prompted Pam to swivel and lock angry if shimmering azure blue orbs on intense pools of midnight.

"Is there a reason to your interrogating my choice of dinner tonight, Ms. Thornton?" Pam snapped as she snatched up the crumpled napkin on the bar and began wiping her hands clean of grease and the smell of crab.

For a brief second, Tara allowed herself to look wounded, the expression lingering long enough for Pam to take pause before she schooled her face back into a neutral if placating expression.

The vampire reached up with a hesitant hand, let it hover as she contemplated touching a finger to the soft skin of Pam's cheek, then retreated without translating intention into action when Pam visibly recoiled.

The blonde's aversion to her almost touch stung but Tara disclosed none of her discomfort as she resettled her hand by her side.

The vampire settled instead, for words.

"Don't be mad."

Three simple words, each one etched with a plea and lined with an apology. Coupled with the beseeching look in those dark eyes, Tara was almost successful in easing Pam off her pedestal of indignant fury.

'_Don't be mad.'_

But she was. She _was_ mad.

Tara's unapologetic confession the night before, coupled with her painfully honest parting words, had haunted the better part of Pam's dreams until sleep became not a reprieve but a landscape of despair. Her troubles had trickled into the rising of the dawn and had resulting in plaguing her day to such a degree that the blonde had scarcely been able to function.

Daily chores and errands aside, Pam had nothing else to do in her daylight hours to combat the vampire's words that ran in a relentless, cruel loop inside of her head.

It had resulted in Pam swinging from terror to bewilderment to anger to sadness to hope and back again.

In the end, anger was what she chose to hang on to. Anger was an emotion she knew best, could bend to her will, could shape into a sword with a tip so sharp it could slice through steel.

Anger was what drove her now.

"You forced me into a difficult position last night," Pam began, her voice suddenly eerily calm, like the stillness of an ocean before an oncoming storm.

It raised many alarms in the back of Tara's had.

"I know," the vampire admitted, ducking her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"You had no right," Pam continued in that frighteningly even tone.

"I apologize," Tara replied immediately.

"I do not appreciate my free will wrested from my hands."

"Pamela..."

"Perhaps it's best if you took your leave."

Tara's head snapped back up, her compliant and beseeching gaze draining into a mask of shock, incredulity and finally, anger.

"What?"'

Power crackled in the air, skimming across Pam's skin like a live current and she suppressed a shudder, knowing that she had just open the doors to Tara's rage.

She girded her mental loins, adopted a look that was decidedly frosty and met Tara's suddenly turbulent gaze head on.

"I said, 'perhaps it's best if you took your leave,'" Pam repeated, her tone conceited and more than a little haughty.

When backed into a corner with no form of escape, the blonde resorted to her defense mechanism of choice: a sharp tongue.

Tara's gaze burned like fire lit oil and a muscle in her jaw ticked as she regarded Pam with a look that was decidedly dangerous.

"I dare you to repeat that." Tara's tone was smooth as silk and sharper than the edges of a finely honed blade.

Pam flinched.

"Let me be, Tara," she whispered tiredly as she dropped her façade, anger draining out of her as quickly as it arrived. "Just leave me be."

"Tell me you don't want me."

Dark eyes bore into defeated whorls of dulled blue-gray; Tara's anger a palpable entity.

"I don't want you," Pam intoned listlessly, her voice dropping into the monotone registers afforded to individuals who were at the end of their emotional ropes.

Tara leaned forward, leaned so close that the raw, dangerousness of her almost suffocated Pam with its near vicinity. "Now say it with _conviction_," she jeered.

When silence was all that Pam had as an answer, Tara chuckled and it a dark and victorious sound. It jangled with arrogance, was wrapped in layers of brick hard confidence.

Tara leaned in until her lips almost brushed a pale, lightly tinged pink ear. "The men that pay you may possess your body, Pamela but me? I seek to possess your soul."

Cool breath caressed Pam's skin and despite herself, she quivered.

"Tara..."

But Tara wasn't finished. "I won't let you go, Pamela." Her voice was resolute, her tone brooking no argument. "I _will_ have you." She pulled back then, lasered a midnight stained gaze onto desperate pools of arctic blue. "I won't take no for answer," she finished plainly.

"Goddamn you to hell Tara Thornton!"

Pam's voice ricocheted off the brothel walls, the sound steeped in equal parts rage, desperation and sadness.

It rendered the brothel silent, stealing from each man and woman, their ability to move.

It was suddenly so quite in the brothel that one could hear a pin drop.

It was Nicholas the bartender who first broke free of his paralysis. He formulated a strategic set of steps that put him near the center of the bar, then reached under the counter, calloused fingers wrapping themselves around the cool butt of his two barrel Remington derringer.

"Everything alright, Ms. Beaufort?" he asked cordially, keeping his tone and expression pleasant even as his eyes wandered over to observe Tara with a critical gaze. His hand twitched nervously on the trigger, his heart beginning a tattoo that was the common beat of a terrified prey as the full force of Tara's dark, immortal gaze settled on him.

Nicholas tightened his grip on the gun.

On the other side of the bar, Pam was breathing heavily, the pressure the corset settled around her lungs obstructing full inhalation and she fought to catch necessary sips of air even as she scrambled to pick up the tattered pieces of her composure.

"Everything is fine, Nicholas," Pam waved him off. "I apologize for my disrupting your evening." When he turned an incredulous gaze on her and hesitated to move, she forced upon him a genuine, if watery smile. "I'm alright," she reassured him. To her girls and their patrons, she turned in the direction of the drawing room and graced her audience with a perfectly executed beatific smile. "Carry on everyone," she instructed, waving a dismissing hand at them.

The smile lasted the duration it took for Pam to turn back to Tara. Then, upon gazing back into still angry obsidian eyes it cracked, splintered into a spider web of fissures before they dropped from crimson painted lips, shattering like broken glass onto the floor.

"Damn you," Pam choked out again, hands trembling and chin quivering as sorrow scorched a path through her veins. "Get out."

"You cannot damn the damned, Pamela," Tara spoke quietly, her anger receding in wake of Pam's inner turmoil turned into physical acts of distress. She took a purposeful step back, allowing Pam a circle of personal space and hoping the slight distance between their bodies would help clear the thick and tense air somewhat. "And my entire life is hell," she added in a bitter tone. "It is the personification of Hades' dark chambers itself."

When Pam stood and made an attempt to step out from under Tara's dark, intense stare, the vampire simply shifted, boxing the blonde between her and the bar.

"You will never begin to understand the curse that comes with being an immortal, the price of living in the shadows of the night." Tara's voice was a low rumble, edging towards an animalistic growl as she zeroed eyes of pitch onto stricken whorls of cobalt blue. "Dante's depictions of hell, his laments on the suffering and torments those wretched souls endure is nothing, _nothing_ compared to an eternity alone."

Eyes so dark they could blot out the sun locked onto wet pools of iridescent glaucous blue as Tara shifted her expression back to calm. There was a resignation in those dark eyes that flayed strips of flesh from Pam's rapidly beating heart, a marrow-deep sorrow that made her spirit weep.

But it was Tara's words that broke her.

"Would you deny me the salvation that is the light from your very soul?" Tara asked her softly.

Pam let loose a violent sob and pushed futilely at Tara's shoulders.

This time, the vampire let her go.

Pam bolted out of the parlor, her skirts revolving around her like a dark carousel of silk and sin as she retreated down a narrow corridor that led to the back of the brothel. There, private alcoves with thick, velvet curtains of rich crimson and thick tasseled ropes of gold presented themselves, their presence offering both intrigue and seduction.

It was the place patrons came to, to pursue the quick but satisfactory sexual pleasures of an oral persuasion. It was also the place where forbidden lovers came to canoodle and meet in secret.

Pam ducked into the nearest unoccupied alcove and drew the thick curtain, effectively blocking out the outside world. She sank onto an overstuffed, plush chair, chest heaving with the weight of her silent, angry sobs. They were tears of rage as much as they were born of sorrow and Pam's heart clenched at the all too acute sensation of her grief.

And then Tara was there. Tara with her indomitable energy, her wild, unique musk, they all wrapped around Pam like the most soothing of embraces.

Only it failed in comparison when Tara physically reached out, hauled Pam to her feet and wrapped her own strong, sculpted arms around her.

Pam surrendered, collapsing in her vampire's arms, giving in to her grief, letting loose some of the pain, the sorrow, the self-disgust she had harbored for longer than was necessary.

For the first time in a long time, Pam allowed herself to just cry.

And Tara let her. She did nothing but hold her close, said nothing as Pam sobbed her troubles into her chest.

Tara simply held her.

It seemed an age before Pam's gut wrenching sobs tapered off into sniffles then the occasional hiccup.

Tara was there with a calming smile and a clean handkerchief as Pam emerged, her face blotchy and her eyes moist, residual tears catching the one lone lamplight like stars.

She was hauntingly beautiful.

"Why me?" Pam inquired verbatim, her voice no louder than a whispered rasp as she repeated he question she had posed the night before. She dabbed at her cheeks, musing that she more than likely looked an utter mess.

The enchanted look in Tara's eyes informed her otherwise and Pam wondered, not for the first time, what she had done to deserve such open affection.

Tara cupped her cheek, thumbing away a residual tear that clung like a diamond speck to a pale cheek. "Why not you?" she repeated in kind, stroking the pads of her fingers down smooth skin.

Pam shook her head. "That's not good enough."

If she were going to allow herself to fall, to allow herself to descend into Tara's arms knowing that she could, would never be able to get back up, she needed more than a three-worded answer.

She needed clarification that could only come from the depths of Tara's soul.

Tara nodded, comprehension dawning in her eyes as the seriousness of Pam's husky cadence registered with her. "I understand."

And she did, with sudden startling clarity. Guilt and regret flooded through her veins as Tara realized exactly what she had asked of Pam.

She had, without considering the consequences, asked Pam to jump without the promise of a safety net below.

She had asked, without the constraints afforded to a human, for everything but the breath from Pam's lungs.

And the latter was something Tara knew – deep in dark, lonely, empty chamber of her unbeating heart – she would also eventually ask for.

Disgust and shame replaced the blood in her veins. Blood that even she had no claim to.

Like everything else, that was also taken, however willingly from its donor.

Tara clenched her jaw.

She stepped back, opening a chasm between their bodies but her eyes never left Pam's.

For a long moment, the vampire let herself stare into wet, shimmering orbs of a pure, untouched sapphire blue.

Eyes that entranced Tara for they held a universe of sorrow.

Eyes that beseeched her for an answer. An answer Tara did not know how to construct into words.

Pam watched Tara watch her, observed the way bottomless eyes of ink studied her, contemplating her request. The blonde could almost hear the wheels turning in her vampire's head as Tara sifted through the various approaches to Pam's soulful plea.

The silence was deafening, thickening the air until Pam felt that she could no longer draw breaths.

Then, without warning, Tara backed Pam up against a wall, her movements neither gentle nor rough.

The vampire loosened the leash on her primal nature, unlocked the cage that housed her primitive beast and leaned in until the tip of her nose touched the column of Pam's throat.

Then, she took a deep, deliberate sniff of Pam's neck.

Lavender. Honeysuckle.

That melancholic strand of sweet, feminine vanilla.

Tara imprinted the smell on her memory. She knew this smell; it was a familiar smell, like a dream she thought she'd forgotten only to have it revived again in the most unexpected manner.

She nosed at Pam's neck, lips almost grazing over the spot where the blonde's pulse now raced erratically, blood pounding through her veins at breakneck speed. Her gums ached, her fangs threatening to make an appearance, wanting to bite, to mark but that was one aspect of her vampiric nature that Tara would not yet reveal to Pam.

Not yet. Not even when at the present time, it was the vampire in her that had been able to bequeath upon Pam the answer Tara could not formulate.

"You smell _right_," Tara began, her low cadence all but a deeply satisfied purr as she nuzzled her nose against soft skin, using the captivating bouquet that was Pam to counter the growing pain that exploded an enraged aria along her upper gums. "I know you are the one I have to have because I _know_ your scent." Another deliberate sniff, another nudge of her nose, this time to the hollow beneath Pam's ear. "It calls to me, sweet as a siren's song and I am but helpless to resist its mellifluous tones."

Pam's exhales came across as shaky as Tara continued to take deep breaths of her scent, nuzzling at her soft, vulnerable flesh. The vampire kept her hands firmly clasped to her sides, the front of her body barely pressing up against Pam's. Only her nose initiated contact as it indulged in epicurean inhales of Pam's scent.

Until now, Tara had kept a tight restraint on her vampire nature, never once offering more than a brief glimpse into her more primitive self before she sealed it back into the jackets of civility.

Now, confronted with a deliberate viewing of Tara's vampiric side and knowing that she was pinned to the wall by a _vampire_, Pam thought that she should have been afraid.

But she wasn't.

"Tara..."

Tara forced herself to pull back at the utterance of her name and the utmost reluctance that followed her every retreat sparked off a primal satisfaction of Pam's own.

When Tara straightened, Pam opened her mouth to speak but the meeting of blue and midnight eyes robbed her of her train of thought.

The blonde realized then and there that Tara's eyes were and would always be her Achilles' heel. They captured her, enraptured her. They were fathomless wells of midnight, pools of black that looked as though they had been permanently stained by ink. They held her dark savior's secrets, were the portal to her emotions. Secrets and emotions that Tara normally kept in check far too well but it was unnervingly easy, disturbingly effortless to lose herself in those endless depths.

Tears threatened to well and blot blue eyes as Tara stared at her, completely besotted and not ashamed to show it.

It broke Pam's heart and loosened her tongue.

"I could so easily fall in love with you," Pam admitted in a pained ragged whisper, her admission simultaneously miserable, disconcerted, awed and just a little angry.

Tara smiled, that same slow, burning smile that she reserved only for Pam.

"I'm already halfway there."

**TBC**


	6. Conversations Painted Black and Blue

**A/N** – Two things: 1) the 2013 Great Gatsby movie is _amazing_. Baz Luhrmann is a mad genius. 2) Thanks to all who not only read the previous chapter but took the time to punch out a review. Here's chapter 6 for y'all. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Conversations Painted Black and Blue**

They didn't talk about what happened.

Pam kept mum because prolonged exposure to the events that had transpired that night between Tara and her still proved too overwhelming for her delicate sensibilities. The memory frightened her, liberated her, made her feel more naked and exposed than she was comfortable being. Tara far too easily stripped away the barricades that concealed her innermost thoughts and emotions and as much as she was beginning to trust and care for the vampire, knowing that someone had that much power over her petrified her until she couldn't breathe.

Tara respected Pam's silence over the subject, encouraged it, nursed it, allowed it to flourish because, intuitively, she knew it was what Pam wanted, needed. She knew what had occurred scared the blonde, knew that for someone who kept such an iron grip on her feelings, having that control slip like water through a sieve was almost more than the blonde could bear.

So the vampire kept mum. She didn't bring it up, but the memory was a permanent part of her now, Pam's words so ingrained into her skin that any attempts to smudge it away only left a wider stain.

The memory was a beacon, a shining sphere of light that lit Tara's day dreams and fed the glowing embers that Pam had started in her heart.

The memory gave her hope.

xxxxxxxx

Pam descended the stairs, absentmindedly fixing her somewhat disheveled hair. Despite the frown that marred the skin between her eyes and that scowl that twisted crimson lips into a severe line, the blonde was still an absolute vision in a steel-front busk azure silk corset with a design of black plush woven leaves and black lace trimmings. A deep sapphire ruffled skirt completed her ensemble, rotating around her legs like the ocean's waves. One side of the skirt was ruched upwards, revealing enough smooth ivory skin to cause a public scandal.

Had Tara's heart still had the ability to tap out a tempo of steady beats, the vampire was sure the poor muscle in her chest would have seized then arrested at the bewitching sight of the blonde.

Even so, as Pam emerged from the drawing room still fussing with her hair, Tara felt a phantom echo of an erratically beating heart. It nudged at her ribs, non-corporeal fingers creating a pleasant if somewhat jarring sensation in her chest even as it sent butterflies to flutter their expansive wings against the delicate walls of her stomach.

It also darkened Tara's eyes to the color of untouched black gold.

"Pamela."

Pam froze at the sound of her name. Coming from Tara's mouth, it sounded like the most sensual of caresses, a brush of full lips against the most feminine part of her.

Simply put, it made her ache.

Reality came a'knocking when a forced giggle sounded from behind her, instantaneously reminding Pam of just what clandestine activities she had been engaging in not ten minutes ago.

Shame flared up within her, hot and bright and she immediately ducked her head, averting her eyes from a pair of dark ones that were already searching for their blue counterparts.

"What are you doing here?"

It was not her intention to sound harsh or ungrateful but Tara had caught her off guard, literally catching her in a state of post coital dishevelment.

A blonde head dropped further, Pam's chin almost touching her chest as she fought against the compulsion to look up and into a pair of eyes that had never once judged her.

"I had to see you."

Such a simply reply. Yet, instead of loosening Pam from the coils of her self-loathing, it only served to birth a spark of resentment towards the vampire waiting for her in the parlor.

It was so easy, almost _too_ easy for Tara to make known to Pam, her intentions towards the blonde. Answers and explanations poured smoothly and simply from those full lips, emerging clear of taint and any false pretenses.

If only Pam could so easily slacken the hold on her own harem of emotions.

Tara's winsome smile faltered as she observed Pam fidgeting by the threshold of the drawing room, as if she were at war with some internal conflict and her feet couldn't decide whether to boldly step forward or make a hasty retreat.

A brief flaring of nostrils informed Tara of the source of Pam's hesitance and the smile that was previously stretching a carefree line across her lips disappeared like a shimmering mirage over the horizon.

Shame fairly poured off of Pam, a sour tang that left an unpleasant aftertaste in Tara's mouth and it was all the vampire could do not to blur up to the blonde, take her into her cool embrace and hold her until those enigmatic blue-gray eyes washed itself of its owner's blatant self-disgust.

Instead, Tara flowed to her feet, lifting her body from the barstool with an easy grace that could only be afforded to an immortal. She initiated a casual saunter over to the indecisive blonde, her movements neither hurried nor impatient.

Pam observed through thick lashes as Tara almost glided the short distance to her, power crackling in the air as she went.

Tonight, the vampire had donned the garments of an affluent nobleman, lending her an undeniable air of sophistication and pure animal magnetism.

Tara was neatly attired in a pristine white tombstone shirt with a black silk puff tie Over it was a double-breasted light gray waistcoat, decorated with the fine gold link chain of a concealed pocket watch. The lower half of her body boasted a pair of slim black trousers over a pair of button up dress boots so polished they shone against the lamplights. A tailored black tailcoat completed the ensemble, hugging the vampire's sinewy frame like a snug glove.

The breathy sigh that escaped unbidden from Pam's lips was unavoidable as Tara came to a stop in front of her, the smell of musk, cloves and sandalwood lulling her into a pleasant haze.

"Good evening, Ms. Beaufort," Tara greeted, her voice a soft, soothing also. She bowed deeply at the waist, straightened and took Pam's hand. Pressing a soft kiss to pale knuckles, she indulged herself with simply cradling Pam's warm hand, her thumb almost absentmindedly grazing a delicate caress over snow-kissed skin.

"How are you this fine evening?"

"Tara..." Pam couldn't be bothered with formalities as she grudgingly pulled her hand out of Tara's grasp.

Not when shame was burning her from the inside out and self-disgust was roiling through her stomach, making her nauseous.

"Look at me."

It was a soft spoken command, not quite assertively demanding but there was no mistaking the heat of gentle insistence behind each carefully constructed word.

The careful care Tara was affording Pam only served to make her feel even more unworthy and she turned her head away, biting down on her lower lip until it hurt. "Let me...let go freshen up," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

Pam had no doubts that Tara could smell the stink of sex on her; the vampire had made such an observation on the night Tara first came to her establishment.

The knowledge made her cheeks flame with humiliation and she quickly attempted a pivot back into the drawing room.

Tara's cool hand alighting on her cheek in an achingly tender manner halted her in her tracks.

"Look at me."

Unable to resist the vampire's soulful plea, Pam turned shame tinged cerulean blue eyes Tara's way.

Tara simply waited until she had the blonde's undivided attention before speaking.

"You're beautiful," she told the blonde, her voice quiet and her eyes sincere. She used the hand that was on Pam's cheek to tuck a curl the color of sunlit wheat back into place then reached down to thumb away a smudge of rouge that lingered on the corner of Pam's lips.

"And now, you're flawless," Tara finished softly as she dropped her hand. A crooked grin of victory chased itself across her lips as her observations garnered from her blonde companion a genuine smile that lit up the blue of her eyes.

"Your sweet tongue continues to prove much too saccharine for my good health, Ms. Thornton," Pam murmured lowly. Her eyelids fluttered of their own volition as Tara once again reached up and danced midnight dipped fingers across an expanse of soft, warm alabaster skin. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your early arrival this evening?"

"I had to see you," Tara repeated verbatim. She thumbed a line over a prominent cheekbone then dropped her hand. "You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the mythical siren song given breath and life and I am but a lowly servant, unable to do anything but heed your call."

Pam blushed at Tara's complimentary words then rolled her eyes when the vampire shot her an impish grin. It did the necessary trick however, and Pam was able to shrug away the cloak of her woes, tucking it away for another day.

"I am grateful for your company tonight, Ms. Thornton," Pam offered, gracing Tara with a demure smile of her own.

"I'm more than happy to oblige," Tara returned. "May I buy the most enchanting lady in this fine establishment a drink?" she requested amicably, staring unapologetically into eyes fashioned from pure sapphire. Her grin grew in intensity as Pam turned that patented coy smile on her, the expression pulling up the corners of crimson painted lips.

Tara could spend the rest of eternity urging that smile to flirt a path across Pam's lips.

"If you must," Pam drawled, snapping the vampire out of her delightful musings.

Pam's voice was cool and dry as ice but it was a deliberate front, one that was ruined by the sudden animation and twinkle that formed in the blonde's cobalt blue eyes.

Tara could spend the rest of eternity urging such an expression from Pam's face too.

The vampire smiled congenially and held out an arm. It was no more than a handful of steps to the bar but Pam curled slender fingers over the crook of Tara's proffered elbow, allowing the vampire to guide her to a barstool. She helped Pam onto it, waited until the blonde was properly seated then hopped easily onto the unoccupied seat next to her.

"And what sweet beverage beckons the interest of your refined palate this evening, Ms. Beaufort?" Tara inquired, a genuine hint of curiosity creeping into her tone as she visually ascertained the rows of liquor bottles sitting sentinel on their various shelves behind the bar.

"I think a glass of red would suffice for now," Pam informed her softly. "Wine," she emphasized when Tara turned back to face her, brows creasing in slight confusion.

"Oh." Tara nodded then waved the bartender over. "Barkeep, a glass of your best red wine for the lady if you please."

"Yes, miss."

Nicholas was quick to comply to the vampire's request, not wanting those eerie immortal eyes carved from obsidian focused back on him anytime in the near future. There was something about his mistress' companion that awakened and instantly made wary, the primitive instincts bestowed upon him by his ancestors but forced into a dormant state by the curtain of civilization.

It was an instinct that told him that before him stood a predator and he was but prey.

"Ma'am," Nicholas addressed Pam stiffly as he set a glass of rich, dark crimson wine in front of her.

"Thank you, Nicholas," Pam replied absentmindedly, Tara's dark gaze on her almost hypnotizing her into insensibility. She broke the connection of their eyes and picked up the glass, expertly swirling the liquid and letting it breathe for scant seconds before she took a delicate sip.

The sound of jangling coins caused her to refocus her attention on Tara who was sifting through a small fistful of copper and silver coins.

"It's on the house, Tara," Pam informed her.

"I intend on doing this in the proper fashion," Tara replied around a charming smile. She slapped the coinage on the bar top then tossed in another silver coin for good measure. "For your troubles," she notified Nicholas kindly.

Nicholas' slightly nervous gaze swiveled over to Pam, clearly waiting instruction.

At Pam's resigned huff and wave of her hand, the bartender swept the coins into his palm and made his way to the cashier to deposit the currency.

"I am beginning to discover the wealth of your stubbornness, Ms. Thornton," Pam notified the vampire drily as she took another delicate sip of her beverage.

Tara merely flashed the blonde a set of pearly whites and leaned forward towards the blonde. "It has its uses," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"Of that I have no doubts," Pam murmured, eliciting another devastating smile from Tara. She sipped at her wine, relishing the fruity notes along with the darker, richer flavors of cherry wood that danced across her taste buds.

"Are you enjoying your choice of beverage?" Tara questioned, her voice once again carrying a twang of inquisitiveness. She watched, helplessly enthralled by the way Pam's full lips parted to accept the lip of the glass between her parted mouth, the way those same lips closed over the wine glass, leaving but a small slit to allow the dark liquid to flow into her mouth.

She watched as Pam's eyes went half-mast at the taste of wine in her mouth, cheeks flushing slightly from the heat of the alcohol. The way the blonde's pale throat would then work ever so slightly as she swallowed was a coordinated dance of writhing tendons and muscles that left Tara's mouth dry and other parts of her to dampen embarrassingly.

"Gods, but are you a vision to behold," Tara breathed out, her voice slightly shaky.

Pam felt the creep of a blush start from her neck up to her face but before she could turn and face the vampire she had so unknowingly and easily bewitched with the simple act of drinking wine, a man stumbled up to the pair, reeking of alcohol and sweat.

"'Ow much?" he slurred, his breath so pickled in whisky that it was almost toxic.

Pam tensed even as she resisted the urge to gag at the man's less than pleasing breath. Her body then went visibly stiff as the man's obnoxious London drawl registered with her.

"I don't do walk ins," the blonde told the man, inwardly sighing in relief as the patron's ruddy face didn't spark a memory or sense of recognition.

"Come on, luv," the man insisted drunkenly, swaying dangerously closer to Pam. "'Ave a heart."

Pam clenched her teeth and set down her wine glass. She was about to cut the man down to size with an acerbic reply when a low growl sounded from her right.

It wasn't anything a human could produce; the most a mortal could achieve was a sort of strangled gurgle deep in their throat.

Tara's growl was dressed unrepentantly in an animal's bur and her eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits as she glowered at the man that had sought to interrupt their conversation.

"The lady is occupied at the moment," Tara gritted out. Her gums began its petulant aching, her fangs threatening to slid out of their sheaths and into the obscenely pulsating vein she could see so clearly on the side of the man's neck.

The vampire clenched her hands into fists, nails digging half-moon impressions into the palms of her hands as she fought against the temptation to reach over and rip the man's throat out.

Power flared, palpable and raw as Tara glared coldly at the intruder to her and Pam's time together, her body coiled like a snake about to attack.

Pam shivered as the air around her turned gluey from Tara's energy. "Tara..."

"Come on, doll," the man slurred around a burp. "'Ow much for a suck, eh?"

Clearly the man had no sense of self-preservation.

He also further cemented his stupidity when he attempted to stroke stubby, calloused fingers down Pam's cheek.

The man's hand had barely risen from his side before Tara was suddenly on her feet and behind the man. She twisted that suspended arm behind his back then slammed him, cheek first onto the bar top.

"Tara!"

"I said the lady is unavailable," Tara hissed, all traces of civility vanishing in wake of her rage. "You would do well to listen to what I have to say, you ungrateful cur."

"Let him go, Tara," Pam pleaded. She waved off Nicholas who was slowly ambling over to the trio then refocused her attention on the situation before her. "Tara!"

Tara released him and the man turned around, the pain of having his arm twisted to abruptly sobering him enough to grasp better control of his senses. He glared at Tara and took a step forward, the look in his eyes telling Pam that he fully intended to retaliate.

However, before the blonde could call upon for Nicholas, Tara backed the man up against the bar and reached out – lightning quick – to grip at his chin.

"You will leave this place and forget it ever existed," she began in a soft, drawling monotone that made the fine hairs on Pam's arms stand on end. "In fact, from this moment on, you will find that your ceaseless appetite for seeking pleasures of the flesh from places other than your marriage bed has desisted." Midnight eyes were hard as granite as they observed the wedding band choking the fourth stubby finger on the man's left hand before snapping a flat, unyielding gaze back on a disturbingly blank face. "You will go home to your wife. You will love her, treasure her as she is to be treasured. Further acts of infidelity are now inconceivable to you."

"Inconceivable," the man mumbled, his tone alarmingly devoid of emotion.

"Good boy," Tara praised him, her cadence mocking as she patted his cheek condescendingly and with a little more force than was necessary. Then, she released her hold on him and stepped aside. "Now, be off with you. And see to it that you find yourself in the company of some clean water and soap."

The man left, stumbling slightly over his feet as the excess alcohol upset his equilibrium.

Pam caught a brief glimpse of his perplexed and somewhat bewildered face before he disappeared out of the parlor.

"What did you do to him?" Pam demanded, managing to inject a fusion of indignation and command into her voice even as Tara's power continued to slither around her lithe frame like a dozen agitated, hissing snakes.

Tara for her part, had the good graces to adopt a somewhat sheepish expression as she turned her attention onto her slightly fuming companion.

"I uh...compelled him away," she revealed quietly. She reined in her energy, dampened it to a low hum.

"You...compelled?" Pam echoed. A terrifying thought crossed her mind and it made the blood in her veins suddenly run cold. "You mean to tell me you forced his will?!"

Tara tucked her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed at the soft flesh nervously. "In a fashion," she admitted, not missing the now horrified look on Pam's face. "I...glamored him if you will," she explained. "I planted a seed of persuasion into his mind, nurtured it and used my words to allow it to take root and flourish in his alcohol addled mind."

Dark eyes were beseeching as they sought out unamused pools of glaucous blue. "Don't be mad."

"Tara..." Pam's voice was exasperated if a little tense.

"I apologize," Tara cut in immediately. "I did not mean for my temper to get ahead of me."

"You can't...glamor away every potential customer that walks through my doors. It's bad for business," the blonde added, quirking a small smile when Tara ducked her head, looking very much like a chastened child.

"He was being unkind to you," the vampire pointed out petulantly. "He should know better than to speak in such brash a manner to a lady."

"But I'm not, Tara. I'm a..."

"Don't."

Tara's eyes were suddenly back onto Pam's face, locking onto azure blue eyes that were suddenly awash with wariness. The blonde fought against the urge to shrink back when something dark and very dangerous flickered in those midnight depths.

"So help me, Pamela, if you attempt to label yourself a whore in my presence again, I will not be responsible for my resounding actions." Tara's face was impassive, her mouth set in a hard line and her hands were clenched into such tight fists that her joints screamed in protest.

Pam shook her head. "You delude yourself with a reality only you can see," she whispered softly. "This is my life, Tara." She illuminated by gesturing at her surroundings. "If it bothers you so, perhaps we should go our separate ways."

"I could take you away from all of this," Tara spoke in response, her tone quiet, subdued. "But I sense that now is not the time, is it?"

Pam shook her head, a sad, bittersweet smile playing about her lips.

Tara nodded. "I'll be taking my leave now, Ms. Beaufort."

_'But will you come back?'_ Pam thought, tears threatening to smart her eyes at the thought of engaging in a final goodbye with the vampire.

"I will return for you at the end of the night."

Tara closed the small distance between them, reached for Pam's hand and brought it to her lips. Full lips grazed soft, warm skin and she inhaled deeply, imprinting the blonde's already familiar scent into her senses.

And with those parting words, Tara dropped Pam's hand and walked out of the parlor.

Pam watched her go, Tara's absence conjuring up a deep, empty throb in her chest. She watched as James made his way to the cloak room to retrieve Tara's hat and cane, watched as Tara exchanged a few pleasantries with the doorman before palming him a coin.

She watched until the door closed behind Tara, obstructing the vampire from her ice-blue gaze.

xxxxxxxx

As promised, Tara was outside waiting as Pam emerged in an off-white shirtwaist with a turnover collar and a navy blue trumpet skirt. An unbuttoned black woolen frock coat with a Mandarin collar flapped out behind her as she locked the door, tucked the key into a drawstring purse on her wrist then made her way down the steps to the pavement.

Tara greeted her with a cautious smile. She sketched a respectable bow, kissed the back of Pam's hand then reached over to button up Pam's coat.

"It wouldn't do for you to catch your death of cold," Tara said softly as she finished the last button then reached up and adjusted the collar of Pam's coat. She then peered into deep blue eyes. "Are you still mad at me?"

Pam's lips twitched at the question. "Yes," she replied quietly. She wasn't, not really but the hangdog look on Tara's face was too adorable to resist.

"Will you still allow me to escort you home?" Tara inquired warily. She couldn't quite read Pam at the present moment but she held out hope that despite the deadpan look on the blonde's face, her body language towards Tara wasn't decidedly hostile.

Pam breathed out a faux annoyed sigh before turning her head into the shadows to conceal a smile.

"If you must."

**TBC**


	7. Dispassionate Mercy

**A/N** – Thank you to all those who not only took the time to read the previous chapter but also were kind enough to leave me a review. Your observations and thoughts give me all sorts of new and fun ideas for this story. :-) Well, here's the new chapter. I hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Dispassionate Mercy**

Pam wasn't sequestered at the parlor when Tara walked in.

It wasn't anything to be alarmed over but as dark eyes scanned the adjoining room, they intensified into hard chips of obsidian when she caught a faint whiff of terror in the air.

"Where might Ms. Beaufort be at the present moment, James?" Tara addressed him stiffly as she handed him her black felt derby hat and thick woolen frock coat, a garment she wore simply as a nod to the cold.

The doorman shivered; there was quality to Tara's voice that instinctively triggered his flight or flight response and as the vampire's low voice drifted over to caress his ears, his gut compelled him to run.

"I-I believe she went upstairs not fifteen minutes ago, miss," James stuttered, his voice emerging from his throat squeaky and two octaves too high for his normal register.

Tara dug into her pockets, fished out a coin and slapped it far too forcefully against the doorman's hand, eliciting a pained wince.

"You're dismissed," she informed James, her voice little more than a dangerous rumble as nostrils flared, her nose finding and latching on to the screaming strands of anxiety and panic.

Pam was scared.

Tara resisted the urge to put her vampiric speed to good use as she crossed into the parlor, turned left into the drawing room then up the stairs, her gait casual, relaxed even. However, had any of Pam's girls or their patrons taken the time to carefully observe Tara, they would have noticed the way her sinewy frame was suddenly ropy with tensed muscles under her neatly pressed dark gray pinstripe suit, her moving legs adopting a predatory prowl as she ascended the stairs in a manner that made her seem immune to the pull of gravity.

Power crackled in the air as the vampire reached the top of the stairs where she was promptly greeted with carpeted floors and rows of closed doors that sat sentinel down the atmospherically lit hallway like closed eyelids. Here, arousal was thick in the air, punctuated by heated moans, the sensual rustle of sheets and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin as carnal activities ran amok behind said closed doors.

Tara's eyes glittered like black jewels set aflame as the almost overpowering aroma of arousal twined around her senses like a drunken snake.

She shook it off, cut through its seductive smoke like a knife through butter as she focused every ounce of her attention on the lone figure pressed outside of a closed door at the end of the hallway.

Pam.

When Tara caught sight of a pale hand reaching for the doorknob, she blurred forward, announcing her presence with an unnatural gust of cool wind and a dark hand that curled around Pam's mouth like an errant vine.

"Don't."

Pam started at the unexpected contact and the low alto that sounded in her ear. It almost resulted in a scream loosening itself from the slick walls of her vocal chords and she struggled briefly against the vice-like grip around her lithe frame.

"Pamela."

The sound of her name emerging from Tara's lips like a caress of silk against bare skin instantly made the blonde's body go slack.

"Tara."

Pam's muffled utterance of the vampire's name came across like a whispered, devout prayer as she leaned almost gratefully into that sinewy and beautifully muscled body. She breathed deeply as her dark savior's bouquet of musk, cloves and sandalwood unfurled around her and unconsciously she burrowed deeper into the arms that held her captive.

Tara simply tightened her embrace.

"Don't scream, Pamela," Tara low voice sounded in her ear and despite the way Tara's energy was shielding her in a thick layer of security, the absolute fury in that deep alto voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand erect.

Pam nodded her compliance anyway, feeling acutely, every coiled muscle in Tara's body as the vampire pressed intimately up against her back. She absentmindedly licked at her lips when Tara's hand fell away, tasting on her tongue, the residual flavors of musk and cloves.

"Stay here," Tara instructed. She couldn't look at the blonde right now for she knew that her eyes were aglow with rage, the kind that demanded satisfaction by way of spilled blood.

The vampire shifted, gently pushing Pam behind her. She could hear the blonde's heartbeat: loud, erratic, terrified, her blood gushing through her veins as apprehension and panic spiked the crimson liquid with adrenaline.

It made the beast inside of her snarl with rage.

Tara stepped forward, kicked the door open and blurred into the room, picking up the first vampire she saw by the throat.

It was the female one.

"Get your hands off of her!"

The male vampire, who had been previously gorging noisily, messily, on femoral blood from the whore's thigh, snarled at Tara as he rose to his feet with a speed that blurred the lines of his body.

Tara threw the female one across the room; she smacked unpleasantly into the wall of russet-orange, the impact of her body rattling a lone picture frame before she slid down and crumpled onto the floor, whimpering in shock and rage.

The male vampire howled in fury, sped to the dresser, grabbed a candlestick holder and snapped off its end to create a makeshift stake. He sped back to Tara, intent on driving the crudely made weapon's tip into Tara's heart.

Tara simply reached out with preternatural speed and grabbed the sharpened end of the candlestick holder, freezing her would-be attacker's arm in place.

All this occurred within the space of a few short seconds and Pam had to blink rapidly, repeatedly to reassure her troubled mind that she was not in the throes of a drug-induced hallucination.

The blonde lingered in the threshold of the door, outwardly managing to look poised and unaffected but the aghast look marring the blue of her eyes and the erratic thumping of her heart against her ribs was a blatant indicator of her fear.

She watched as Tara turned cold, dark eyes onto the male vampire, staring at him like one would a bug they would like nothing more than to eradicate beneath the soles of their shoe.

She watched as Tara bared her teeth at the male vampire, revealing pointed fangs that until now, Pam never had the privilege of seeing.

Standing in the middle of a blood spattered room, with a girl that was more than likely dead and drained, Tara was all dangerous energy and feral superiority, all packaged into an outer layer that was urbane and sophisticated.

Pam should have been petrified at the very sight of Tara in all her vampire glory, knew that she should have been cowering in the face of such raw, unapologetic power.

Instead, all she felt as a hot surge of desire.

The blonde was brought out of her poorly timed musings when the air in the room turned viscid and charged, Tara revealing the full extent of her power over the two rogue vampires.

The female vampire staggered to her feet, visibly cringing as Tara's energy washed over her, enforcing dominance and submission.

The male vampire proved not so smart.

He growled and attempted another press forward, hoping to best the vampire that held his arm in a deadlock and drive the makeshift stake into her heart.

Tara directed all of her aura onto him.

Its effect was instantaneous.

The male vampire gasped and dropped instantly to his knees, releasing his steely grip on the candlestick holder. He cowered at Tara's feet, whimpering and tugging fitfully at his hair as Tara glared coldly down at him, her energy coiling around him with such vicious intent that he curled in on himself, whimpering and rocking in a fetal position on the floor.

"Stop! Please!"

"Your whelp has not learned to respect his elders," Tara began in a frighteningly calm tone. She locked dark eyes onto the female vampire who was still situated across the room though she was now pressing herself up against the wall in a futile attempt to distance herself from Tara's raw, indomitable energy. "He is yours, is he not?"

"Yes," the female vampire confirmed, shaking slightly as Tara's power crawled up her naked arms and wrapped invisible fingers around her throat, squeezing with deliberate intent. "Please," she added hoarsely. "Don't harm him."

Tara growled, fangs glinting dangerously off the lamps glowing softly in the room. Then, she called back her power, dampening her energy until it was only a low but still palpable hum in the air.

The male vampire took the advantage and flowed to his feet. Driven by nerves and primal instinct, he lashed out a hand at Tara only to have the female vampire speed up to him and grab at his raised arm.

"Desist!" she hissed at him, curling dainty fingers around his wrist with a pressure that made bones beneath skin and flesh creak in warning. "I command you to stand down."

The male vampire went instantly slack, as if someone had reached into him and pulled out every last vestige of fight he had. He ducked his head of messy brown hair, concealing into the shadows, his blood-stained mouth.

His reaction was akin to a puppet being cut of its strings.

Pam watched, fascinated more than was duly healthy as the male vampire stood motionless and submissive before the female vampire. The abruptness of his compliance had an air of oddness around it, almost as though he had no other choice but to succumb to the female vampire's command.

"Retract your fangs."

Tara's low alto caused sapphire painted eyes to refocus on the altercation.

The female vampire immediately complied, fangs disappearing back into their sheaths with a subtle snick. "I apologize, Old One," she murmured, ducking her head in a gesture that was both subservient and apologetic. "I did not know this was your territory."

Tara reached out and slapped the female vampire across the face, splitting open succulent lips.

A low-velocity spray of blood spat itself out from the broken skin, dropping onto the floor like discarded rubies.

The male vampire growled low in his throat.

Pam visibly flinched.

"You dishonor me," Tara snarled as she glared at the female vampire.

The female vampire ducked her head so low her chin almost touched her chest. "I can only apologize," she whispered, her voice subdued. "I do beseech you, Old One. Please, I beg your forgiveness."

Tara's power gave a sudden spike, flaring so suddenly that the other two vampires flinched in tandem.

"You are forbidden from every stepping foot into this establishment again," Tara decreed, her voice brooking no argument. Her own fangs retracted with a subtle click as she glowered at her fellow vampire. "Look at me and tell me you understand."

"I understand," the female vampire murmured, managing to look up and maintain eye contact for all of two second before she averted her eyes. Tara's gaze was terrifying, chilling the previously warm blood that she had siphoned so carelessly from the whore on the bed.

She gasped when Tara was suddenly in front of her, her front flush up against her barely clad body. A frisson of desire and fear made the female vampire's body quiver as Tara grabbed her chin in a none too gentle grip.

"Do you see that woman by the door?" Tara demanded in a voice that was too low for human ears. She waited until the female vampire nodded. "She is _mine_," Tara informed her, her voice nothing more than a territorial growl. "You have dishonored me in front of my mate. For that alone, I should kill you."

The female vampire shivered but her posture screamed of resignation as Tara's grip tightened on her jaw. "If it my life you seek, I offer it willingly."

Next to them, the male vampire made a strangled noise and though he still did not move, his eyes were wild with torment as he stared at Tara and his companion.

Tara leaned in until their noses almost touched. "I am only going to extend you the hand of leniency because I do not wish for there to be more bloodshed under this roof."

"Thank you, Old One," the female vampire whispered. "I am not worthy of your clemency."

"No, you are not." Tara stared at the vampire she held for a long moment. Then, she spoke. "Touch Ms. Beaufort and anything or anyone she holds dear and I will personally ensure that your True Death will be a slow, creative and excruciatingly painful one." Twin orbs of pitch slid momentarily over to the male vampire who was meek and quiet by the side of the bed. "Your whelp included," she finished softly, dangerously.

The female vampire nodded again. "Yes, Old One," she whispered around a hard swallow. The look in her eyes was one of pain as Tara increased the pressure she had on her chin.

"Ms. Beaufort."

Pam jumped when Tara's voice floated over to her. She looked up, ran into a pair of deeply intense and still slightly murderous midnight eyes and swallowed. "Y-yes?"

"Name your price," Tara requested simply, eyes flitting briefly over to the body on the bed before they returned to apprehensive blue eyes.

Pam hesitated but the look in Tara's eyes told her that tribute had to be paid. "Five hundred," she uttered finally, softly, her voice sounding entirely too tremulous for comfort but she pressed on. "For every girl you drained."

Claire. She couldn't, wouldn't ever forget that night.

Tara nodded then turned back to the female vampire whose chin she still held in a vice grip. "The lady has spoken," she reiterated. "You have until tomorrow night to present to me your payment. After that, you are to leave my city, is that understood?"

"Yes."

Tara let her go and stepped back. "Leave," she ordered the two vampires. "Now."

Pam stepped back, almost pressing herself against the wall as the two vampires gathered their belongings and shuffled out of the door at vampiric speed.

Tara followed their retreat at a human amble until she was outside and standing next to Pam. She reached out but froze when the blonde involuntarily flinched.

"I would _never_ hurt you," the vampire whispered to Pam, dark eyes losing its predatory burn as a wounded expression gleaned in the dark of her eyes. "Believe me."

Pam took a deep breath, shame and guilt scoring deep grooves across her heart at Tara's forlorn expression. "I apologize," she breathed out, shoulders slumping slightly as adrenaline leached from her body, leaving her with a reeling pile of overshot nerves and knots in her stomach. "It has proven to be a rather...tense evening."

"Indeed," Tara murmured. She itched to touch Pam, wanted to take her into her arms and cradle her against her chest until the troubled look in her eyes was chased away by the soothing touch of her cool embrace.

But she resisted. The last thing she wanted was to add to Pam's turmoil. So, instead, she settled for running a visual sweep down the length of the blonde.

Tonight, the blonde was beautifully attired in an evening gown of lace shoulder straps and silk ruffle skirts, the color of her garments so deep a purple that it almost came across as black. The deliberate creases and ruffles that cut through the abundant material of her skirts almost made it come alive, so fluid and shimmery it was beneath the golden-yellow glow from the wall lamps.

"You look divine tonight," Tara observed, her voice quiet, her eyes enchanted, as they always were when confronted with the arresting sight that was her blonde companion. "Aphrodite herself would weep with jealously at the exquisite sight of you."

Pam bit her lip as her cheeks flamed at the sincere compliment. She wanted to return the complimentary gesture, wanted to tell Tara that in her dark gray pinstripe suit and tie, with her dark hair pulled back into a simple queue, she was almost devilishly dapper and undeniably handsome.

"I believe you've yet to greet me good evening, Ms. Thornton," was what she said instead. A small smile flirted with her lips as Tara immediately beamed at her, the simple request lighting up the dark of her eyes so that they shone like precious jewels.

Tara stepped forward, reached for Pam's hand and brought up to her lips. She ghosted a kiss to pale knuckles, nuzzled her nose against warm, soft snow-kissed skin and inhaled deeply. "Good evening, Ms. Beaufort."

"Good evening," Pam replied in kind, her voice no more than a breathy sigh. When Tara released her hand, the now expected pang of loss thumped unhappily against her heart.

It seemed to grow more painful each night.

There was a prolonged silence as the pair simply observed each other. Then, Pam's gaze shifted involuntarily back to the room and the small gasp that followed prompted Tara to take action.

"Go back downstairs," Tara beseeched softly. She reached out and pulled the door close, obstructing the view of the dead body from Pam's suddenly upset gaze. "Please. I don't want you exposed to such ugliness."

"I couldn't save her."

Tara took a step forward, reached out and cupped Pam's warm cheek in her hand. "You did _nothing_ wrong," she insisted. "Had you gone into this room alone, they would have torn you to shreds." Dark fingers stroked imaginary lines down soft, pale skin. "Please," Tara repeated again, her voice soft but insistent. "Go downstairs."

Pam allowed herself a moment to indulge in Tara's touch before she stepped back with a sigh. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I await our reunion with bated breath," Tara replied with a winsome smile.

xxxxxxxx

Tara was waiting for her in the parlor when Pam descended the stairs wearing an ivory satin blouse under a deep bronze floral outing jacket. Revolving around her legs was a ruby taffeta skirt, high enough off the ground to allow black steeple Victorian boots to peek through. The blonde completed her outfit with a black coachman's hat, worn slightly crooked and black deerskin dress gloves. Her last accessory was a red satin drawstring reticule with black piping, side tassels and black lace that dangled on her left wrist.

She made for an arresting sight and Tara, in her haste to scramble to her feet, almost knocked the barstool over.

"Beautiful," was the only word Tara managed as Pam sauntered over to her, that coy smile fringed with satisfaction as she indulged heartily in the vampire's enthralled gaze.

"You're looking rather dapper yourself, Ms. Thornton," Pam observed, her lips shifting and widening into a genuine smile that bordered on a blush as Tara reached for her hand and cradled it lovingly before bowing at the waist to drop a lingering kiss to her knuckles.

"Are you ready to go?" Tara asked politely as she released Pam's hand. Upon Pam's nod, Tara retrieved her hat and coat from the bar top. She shrugged on the garments, adjusted the lapels of her coat then held out her arm. "Shall we?"

Pam curled her hand around the crook of Tara's elbow and allowed the vampire to lead her to the door. Tara opened it, ushered Pam out first then stepped out, closing the door behind her. She then stepped aside to allow Pam to lock the door, drop the key back into her purse then took her hand again before escorting her down the steps onto the pavement.

"'Tis a lovely night," Tara observed as guided Pam left.

Pam breathed in the crisp night air. "'Tis indeed."

xxxxxxxx

By the time Pam and her vampire arrived at her modest Victorian abode, a heavy mist that seemed to linger between fog and rain, had descended on the pair. It shrouded the neighborhood and its streets, fingers of ethereal white elongating and curling into itself even as it expanded down into the shadowy darkness beyond.

Tara dropped Pam off at her steps, sketched a deep bow then reached for the blonde's hand. However, instead of bestowing a kiss, she simply cradled the glove covered hand, her thumb absentmindedly running over the protrusions that was Pam's knuckles.

"What troubles you?"

Tara looked up from where she was so studiously concentrating on the blonde's hand. Dark eyes were contemplative, disconcerted as she gazed deep into mesmerizing pools of arctic blue.

Pam took a step closer to Tara when the vampire failed to provide an answer. "Tell me what ails you so deeply," she beseeched in soft husk.

"I seek but a small favor from you, Pamela," Tara finally spoke. Her voice was soft but there was no mistaking the wary, apologetic notes that sang out from her low alto.

Pam stiffened and took a step back, retracting her hand from Tara's grip. "What would you ask of me, Tara?" she replied, dropping the formalities of addressing the vampire properly. Her voice was decidedly cooler, her posture suddenly on the defensive as Tara continued to stare at her with that slightly mournful but resigned expression.

When Tara's dark eyes flickered over her shoulder towards her front door, Pam bristled and clenched her teeth.

"Of course." What did she expect? That Tara would continually swoop in and protect her without asking for anything in return?

She should have known by now that everything has its price.

"I believe we have a debt to settle," Pam murmured, her voice taking on a seductive quality as she slipped into the role of mistress of the night. She stepped forward towards Tara again, sensual intent wafting off her in waves.

However when she leaned for a kiss, Tara stopped her with a gentle but firm hand against her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

The vampire's voice was confused, bordering on angry and laced with a smidgen of hurt.

It gave Pam pause. "I'm settling my debt to you." Calm words, collected words.

Tara shook her head. "No. You misunderstand me." She reached out and was undeterred when Pam tried to shy away from her touch. With preternatural speed, she reclaimed Pam's hand and held it securely between her fingers.

"Stop running from me." Her tone was calm but a hint of impatience simmered under her genial Southern cadence.

"You rejected me."

"I want _you_," Tara elucidated carefully. She snuck a lone finger under the fabrics of Pam's jacket and blouse that covered her wrist until she came into contact with warm, soft skin. "Not the coy, unaffected brothel owner you hide so easily behind." Dark eyes were stormy with conviction as they locked onto stormy pools of blue-gray, her finger running small circles on the inside of Pam's wrist. "I just want _you_." Obsidian eyes implored the blonde to understand. "Only you."

Pam wanted to remain angry, wanted to hold onto the indignant fury that was almost second nature to her. But Tara's words robbed her of her rage and she found her posture slumping in defeat.

Tara sighed as Pam's body language went from antagonistic to beaten. She leaned in until their bodies pressed lightly against each other. She used her unoccupied hand to reach up and cup Pam's cheek.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," the vampire whispered, her voice soft, aching with sorrow. "I wish you would stop sullying your worth because you are _priceless_ to me."

Pam shuddered, whether from the cold or the utmost sincerity in Tara's words, she did not know. She leaned into Tara's cool palm, closed her eyes and relished the way her dark savior played limber fingers over her soft skin.

"Would do you request of me, Tara?" Pam asked finally when she was able to compose herself enough to open her eyes and fall back into that flawless gaze of pure, untouched midnight.

"Allow me to blood your front door," came a pained-filled reply.

Pam cocked her head, bewildered by the request. "I...I don't understand what you ask of me."

Tara retreated, dropping her hand from Pam's cheek and releasing the hold she had on Pam's hand. "Say, 'yes', Pamela," she almost begged. "Before I lose my resolve."

There was such pain in Tara's voice, such unwillingness to do whatever it was she was urging Pam to let her do.

Yet there was also a marrow-deep desperation that echoed the loudest in Tara's stalwart Southern drawl.

The desperation was what compelled Pam to nod her head and the blonde watched as Tara made her way up the three steps to her front door.

There was a quick snick and it took a moment before Pam realized that Tara had distended her fangs.

Tara felt Pam's gaze boring into her tense back, could almost taste the puzzlement percolating off the blonde in waves.

She never felt more like the monster she knew she was when she pricked her thumb on a fang and smudged a line of crimson onto pale pink painted wood.

For a long moment, Tara simply stared at the mark she had made. Silence howled around her, shrieking like a living entity denied attention.

The vampire knew that in time the stain would disappear, soaking into the wood where it would take up permanent residence, her scent and mark forever imprinted on this pale pink door.

"Tara..."

The vampire started at the feel of Pam's warm hand alighting on her shoulder. The blonde had never initiated tactile contact with her before, never took the initiative to touch her willingly.

Now, even through the layers of her coat and suit, she could feel the heat from Pam's palm. It seared her dark skin, leaving a brand of its own.

Tara relished the feeling.

"Tell me what you just did."

Pam's soft request sent Tara corkscrewing back to the present. She turned and fixed despondent dark eyes onto startling shades of ocean blue, unable to respond.

Pam squeezed at the muscled shoulder beneath her hand. "Whatever it is," she told the vampire. "It's alright."

"I just blooded your home."

The monotone quality to Tara's voice sent a shiver down Pam's spine but she repressed it and bore down harder on Tara's shoulder.

"It's alright," she reassured Tara.

"Do you have any idea of the significance of such an act?"

Tara's eyes were suddenly brimming with self-loathing but her touch was gentle as she plucked Pam's hand off of her shoulder, cradling it with a care and reverence that made the blonde feel utterly treasured.

"Tell me." Pam's voice was calm, her gaze steady as she observed Tara with no amount of pretense.

"I've essentially marked you as mine," Tara informed her, her voice now taking on a flat quality that was devoid of emotion. It was as though she was reciting a recipe or reading an instruction manual, so detached she was from the words that were tumbling from her lips. "This is now my territory, for me to do as I please." A disgusted snort followed her explanation. "It is no better than an animal marking their scent on a tree. I might as well have pissed on your leg."

When silence followed Tara's confession, she gripped at Pam's hand. "Know that I am doing this to protect you," she explained softly. "I have no wish to exert dominance over your independence."

For the second time that night, Pam initiated contact. She reached up, cupped Tara's cheek, her expression awash with awe as Tara's eyelids fluttered and she leaned into the pale hand against her cheek, almost purring at the feel of warm skin against her cool flesh.

"You blooded my front door to protect me."

Tara nodded.

"To ensure no harm comes to me."

Another nod.

Pam moved her hand down until it cradled Tara's chin. Lifting it so that their eyes met, she willingly, eagerly surrendered to those bottomless pools of flawless midnight.

"Then who am I to refuse such a noble act of gallantry?"

**TBC**


	8. The Stars Are In Your Eyes Tonight

**A/N** – So a certain Disney movie was on TV when I was scrawling notes for this chapter. The song in this movie became such a source of inspiration that I decided to scatter a few of its lyrics throughout this chapter. Brownie points to whoever figures out the song and let me know if you do. *grins* Happy reading!

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**Chapter 8 – The Stars Are In Your Eyes Tonight**

Tara breezed through the brothel doors, stunning everybody present into immobility.

James, who had been setting up the cloak room, emerged through its doors and promptly dropped the three worn hangers he held in his hands.

Nicholas, who normally wore stoic and unaffected like a snug glove, felt his eyes bug out behind his glasses as Tara stepped into the entrance hall. Previously engaged in making notes regarding his stock of alcohol, the bartender's nimble fingers slipped around the fountain pen he was holding, leaving on the page, a bold, black splotch of ink.

And Pam, who had crossed the threshold into the parlor, had barely made it halfway to the bar when Tara's undeniable energy signature prompted a blonde head of loose wavy corn silk colored hair to turn towards the door.

Her jaw sagged.

It wasn't hyperbole; the blonde's mouth actually dropped open as wide blue eyes took in the sight of her dark savior standing by the front doors.

Tara's face – a face that could have easily been worn by a god or a fallen angel – bore the wickedest of impish grins as she shrugged out of a blue-gray buccaneer frock coat with pulled back cuffs and bold brass buttons.

Under it emerged a buttonless white linen shirt with billowing piratical sleeves and unlaced eyelets at the throat, revealing a generous sliver of dark, molten chocolate skin that was designed to tempt the eyes of men and women both.

This was tucked in an almost haphazard fashion into a pair of black cotton breeches so snug they hugged every curve and crevice of rock-hard thighs and feminine hips.

Completing the outfit was a pair of dark brown leather boots with silver buckles that came up to Tara's knees.

Struck dumb and mute by the sight, Pam could only stare.

Tara looked like some pagan pirate goddess from the high seas. Her hair was finally loose and free flowing, spilling like black silk down her back and over her shoulders. The dark tresses had an unkempt look to them, almost as though it had been tousled by the wind or repeatedly run through by a lover's hand.

She looked like something straight out of a romance novel.

She made Pam ache in all her feminine places.

A strangled squeak drew flabbergasted and lusty orbs of sapphire towards its source.

James.

The doorman had taken to openly gawking at Tara, his eyes like saucers and his mouth hanging comically open. The damaged hangers he previous held were now lying forlornly by his boots, forgotten and dismissed.

"Close your mouth!"

Furious words, explosive with jealousy and potent with rage.

Tara ducked her head to hide a grin as Pam's husky cadence sounded across the parlor and into the entrance hall.

The doorman jumped violently at the reprimand, turned several interesting shades of scarlet and immediately averted his eyes. Schooling his face into a decidedly neutral position, he bent and picked up the discarded hangers.

A cool hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

"She's not really angry," a low alto voice murmured in his ear followed by the cool press of a coin into his palm.

James looked into a pair of midnight eyes, smiling weakly. "I should hope not, miss. I apologize for my rudeness," he added apologetically.

Tara waved him off and handed him her coat. "It is not every day you see a woman dressed as such. It is I who should beg your forgiveness."

"Given, miss." James grinned at her this time before disappearing back into the cloak room.

Tara took this opportunity to saunter into the parlor towards a fuming blonde, swagger and arrogant confidence firmly in place.

She bit the inside of her cheek to tamper down the victorious smirk that threatened to slash a crook line across her face as she took in the look on the blonde's face.

Pam looked every bit as miffed as she sounded seconds ago.

"You're beautiful when you're angry," the vampire observed blithely as she came to a halt before the blonde.

Pam glared at her.

Tara bit down harder on the inside of her cheek and leaned forward slightly, obsidian eyes locking onto a pair of turbulent azure ones.

"Tuck your temper away, Princess," Tara murmured throatily. "The boy can look all he wants but I assure you, only you have the privilege of allowing your lips to follow your eyes." Dark eyes bore into Pam's. "Your tongue too, if you should feel so inclined."

This time Tara was unable to stop the full-blown grin that stretched lush full lips across her immortal face as Pam blushed furiously at the vampire's bold words. There was no mistaking the suggestive implication; Tara's low, husky alto fairly oozed sex.

Emboldened by the blonde's reaction, Tara took a step forward, intending on bestowing upon Pam, the usual courtesies afforded to a lady but she was surprised when Pam stepped back, once again widening the small chasm between them.

Dark eyes danced with delight as Pam dropped a deadpan expression over the aristocratic features of her face and crossed her arms.

Tara knew she was in for a tongue lashing when a blonde eyebrow arched and blue eyes turned decidedly cool.

Pam's inner English girl had come to play.

The vampire's grin widened.

"Have you just come from the ocean wide?" Pam began, her tone mockingly saccharine as she ascertained Tara's piratical attire. All that was missing on the vampire's person was a cutlass strapped to her hip and an eye patch.

"Perhaps you happened upon our shores to pillage villages and rob maidens of their virtue," Pam continued, her tone arch. She stared daggers at Tara. "Well?"

Tara merely bestowed upon Pam a crooked grin, completely unaffected and undeterred by the blonde's frosty attitude. She took a purposefully step forward, forcing Pam to take one back, then another until Pam was trapped between the bar and Tara's body.

Behind them, Nicholas coughed discreetly, swept his notebook from the counter and made a hasty retreat to the stock room.

"Your quicksilver tongue awakens in me, things that would scandalize the menfolk," Tara murmured, her voice one decibel shy of a purr. "The women too," she added as an afterthought.

Pam inhaled sharply as Tara pressed forward another inch. Only a sliver of space now kept their bodies apart and this close, the vampire's intoxicating bouquet of musk, cloves and sandalwood were addling Pam's brain.

As more nights had passed between them, Pam had noticed that Tara had taken to stepping closer and closer into her sphere of personal space. The deliberate act was not meant to threaten or to spark a sense of invasion.

No.

It was meant to tease, to seduce, to invoke within the blonde, feelings and ruminations that before Tara, Pam had sought to stamp out of existence.

It was proving to work like a charm.

"Have you come to whet your appetite of female flesh then?" Pam couldn't help but jab. The sudden twinkle in the blue of her eyes informed Tara not only of the end of her burst of temper but a joy of having someone engage in witty banter with her.

Tara happily indulged her by heaving a theatrical sigh.

"Aye, I have come from lands afar to seek a lady with eyes of sapphire and skin as flawless as the first blanket of mountain snow. She is said to have hair the color of spun gold and lips more lush and succulent than the Amazon's exotic fruits." Intense orbs of midnight flicked down to said lips, her own tongue absentmindedly peeking out to wet her own. "She is also said to possess a beauty that rivals the Goddess of Love herself."

Tara reached out, took Pam's warm hand in her own and brought it to her lips. Grazing a kiss over pale knuckles, she stared deep into cerulean blue eyes. "And having found her, she puts all description and rumors attached to her person to shame."

Pam flushed at Tara's words. "Flatterer," she murmured as she withdrew her hand.

Tara stepped back, allowing a pocket of air to come between them. "You deserved to be flattered."

Pam shook her head in gentle affection. "What brings you by so early?"

"I have come to ask but a boon from the most enchanting lady in all the land," Tara grinned.

Pam rolled her eyes but returned the smile. "And what would you have of me tonight, Ms. Thornton?"

"The exquisite pleasure of your bewitching company of course" At Pam's confused stare, Tara illuminated. "I believe it is high time for me to extend to you, Ms. Beaufort, the hand of courtship."

Pam felt the heat return to her cheeks at Tara's unabashed admission and she ducked her head in reply, adverting her gaze, thus missing the way those dark eyes went soft with unbridled fondness as they soaked in the sight of a blushing Pam.

Tara closed the infinitesimal distance between them and once again reached out, this time to tuck two fingers beneath Pam's chin. Lifting it, she guided shy blue eyes to her fathomless pools of pitch.

"Say, 'yes', Princess," she urged the blonde softly, Tara's unplanned nickname for the blonde already cementing itself on her tongue. "Let me court you. Let me show you the world."

Pam sighed, Tara's eyes and scent already halfway successful into rendering her into insensibility. If she were to be painfully honest with herself, there was nothing more than she wanted to do at the present moment than to nod her assent. It was an indescribable feeling, having Tara by her side and the thought of spending an entire night with her dark savior made her heart soar.

The sound of a muffled curse from the cloak room drew Pam back to reality.

"I'm afraid I have to work, Tara." Pam's reply was full of remorse and more than a little shame.

"Do you not have a second in command?" Dark fingers had taken to dancing across a plane of pale, smooth skin, reverencing emanating from every touch.

Pam chortled at Tara's turn of phrase. "This is not the military, Ms. Thornton. It is a brothel."

Tara shrugged and dropped her hand from Pam's cheek. "Surely there must be someone you trust to hold the reins for one evening." A new cheeky grin crawled across full pink lips. "And perhaps some other evenings in the near future."

Pam fought against another blush. Truly, Tara was turning her into a green debutante with her first crush. It was completely disconcerting.

"Mrs. Mackenzie comes in the early evenings to do the books..."

"Wonderful!" Tara clapped her hands and looked earnestly around, as if she could conjure this person through sheer will alone. "And where might this lovely Mrs. Mackenzie be?" she asked, suddenly shifting from one foot to another. "Would you mind summoning her? No," Tara cut herself off. "Kindly direct me to her current whereabouts, please."

Pam couldn't help but laugh at Tara's enthusiasm. Standing before her, Tara couldn't have acted less like the predatory creature she actually was when she was hopping about from foot to foot, eyes wide with childlike impatience, her posture fairly vibrating with excitement.

"I see I am not going to be able to persuade you away from this matter, am I?"

Tara shook her head, sending strands of black hair whipping about her face. She shot Pam a charming grin and held out an arm. "Shall we?"

Pam curled her fingers around Tara's elbow. "Let's go," she said around a mock sigh.

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Mrs. Mackenzie turned out to be Pam's bookkeeper. A former working girl herself, she had been the one to take Pam under her wing when the blonde had stepped onto the shores of America.

Tara took a moment to observe the woman behind the desk of the small office at the back of the brothel.

Her salt and pepper hair pulled up into a severe bun, Mrs. Mackenzie was a matronly woman with a ruddy face and eyes the color of deep emerald. The vampire had no doubt that she had been and still was quite the beautiful creature but time and her profession had set hard lines about her mouth and put a permanent glint of suspicion in her eyes.

Tara stepped forward and bowed anyway. Judging from the maternal smile Mrs. Mackenzie bestowed upon Pam when they came into the small study coupled with the fond look in the blonde's blue eyes as she addressed the woman, Mrs. Mackenzie was a source of great importance to Pam.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am."

The vampire took the bookkeeper's hand and lifted it to her lips, placing a cordial kiss on liver-spotted skin.

Mrs. Mackenzie merely raissed an unimpressed eyebrow. "And you suppose your aristocratic manners will compel me to hand Pamela's wellbeing into your good care?"

Tara straightened and cocked her head, incomprehension dawning on her face. She turned to Pam, who was watching the exchange with an almost palpable air of amusement.

Pam simply arched an eyebrow at her too but took the sting out of her haughty gaze by quirking up the corner of her lips.

Tara's expression melted into one of besotted.

It was an expression that did not go by unnoticed.

By either Pam or Mrs. Mackenzie.

The latter cleared her throat and Tara's head whipped back towards her, a sheepish expression now donning her face.

"If I've offended you in some way, I apologize," Tara began but before she could continue, Mrs. Mackenzie raised a hand, instantly silencing her.

"I have known Pamela since the day she stepped into this wretched city of fogs and hills. She is as good as a daughter to me."

At this, Pam ducked her head, hiding a pleased blush. She fidgeted on the spot; absentmindedly wringing her hands in what Tara had come to understand was a nervous gesture.

"That's good to hear, ma'am," Tara responded, inclining her head respectfully.

"And what qualities do you think you possess that makes you a suitable candidate for fair Ms. Beaufort?"

Tara grinned at this. "Aside from my being hopelessly enchanted by her?"

Mrs. Mackenzie snorted.

Pam turned the color of a ripe tomato.

"You've a sweet tongue, Ms. Thornton," the matronly woman observed drily. Then she shook her head, half in exasperation, half in amusement. "Young'uns," she muttered. Turning, she lasered an emerald green gaze at the silent blonde.

"Surely you don't plan on going on an outing in that attire, Pamela," she chided as she ran a disapproving gaze over Pam's cream pouter pigeon blouse and navy blue skirt that was tight at the waist and flared out at the hem.

Pam, who stood off to the side, allowed amusement and embarrassment to flirt with the delicate features of her face before she shook her head obediently.

"Be off with you," Mrs. Mackenzie ordered, waving a flourishing hand at the door. "I think it best if you changed into an attire more suited to travelling."

Pam huffed at the flagrant dismissal but turned on her heel and headed to the door. She paused only to lock eyes momentarily with Tara and at Tara's gentle smile, she turned, opened the door and disappeared out into the hall, closing the door behind her with a gentle snick.

When they were alone, Mrs. Mackenzie turned back to Tara. She stared at the vampire with a shrewd and calculating look, completely unperturbed by the low hums of power radiating off the dark skinned woman.

"I assume you have made the necessary travelling arrangements for this...outing of yours?" she inquired.

Tara nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And what about provisions?"

Tara's brows knitted in confusion for mere moments before the flawless skin of dark earth smoothed over. "If you mean food, then yes." Dark eyes turned an inquisitive gaze of their own onto the woman Pam seemed to treasure so dearly.

When a dark gray eyebrow rose, Tara loosened her tongue. "You are not surprised that I am a woman."

Mrs. Mackenzie snorted as she made a correction in her ledger. "I have seen that child's eyes wander over to ample bosoms and pretty faces of the female kind more times than I can count so no, I am not surprised."

Tara smirked around a gentle huff of laughter.

"I trust you'll have her home at a respectable hour?"

Tara cocked her head the request but the bookkeeper was frowning intently at the blur of figures on the page. The vampire watched as Mrs. Mackenzie made a few notes, crossed out a figure then rewrote the correct number above the strike.

"I do not like to be kept waiting, Ms. Thornton."

Tara started slightly. "My apologies, ma'am," she offered. "And yes, I'll have Pamela home at a respectable hour."

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Tara and Mrs. Mackenzie had just stepped into the drawing room when Pam descended the stairs clad in a tweed outing jacket of puff sleeves, notch collar and fabric covered buttons over a high collar shirtwaist the color of milk. Completing the ensemble was a black long sweeping outing skirt with silver filigree buttons that ran down the front. A black coachman's hat sat atop her head and her hair was gathered and pinned loosely behind her head so that it fell in cascading golden waves down her back and left a few wavy tresses to frame her gorgeous face.

Tara moved towards her, one hand extending to help Pam down the last few steps, the vampire's face completely besotted.

"You truly are a beauty that beggars description," Tara whispered as Pam came to stand in front of her.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Pam tossed back but her eyes danced with delight and her crimson painted lips curled in amusement.

Mrs. Mackenzie interrupted their repartee with a tsk. "Your collar is crooked, child."

She moved forward and set about righting the wrong, Tara grinning madly over her shoulder, completely taken with how the woman fretted over Pam like an agitated mother hen.

"Don't fuss," Pam murmured though she didn't push away the pair of helping hands.

Tara held out an arm when Mrs. Mackenzie finished and stepped back. "Shall we?"

Pam took the proffered elbow, curling supple fingers of snow around a defined bicep.

"A respectable hour, Ms. Thornton," Mrs. Mackenzie reminded her in a tone that brooked no argument.

Tara turned and tipped an imaginary hat at the woman. "A respectable hour," she promised. Then she turned back to Pam and almost blinded her with a brilliant smile.

"Let's go, Princess."

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Tara took Pam to Golden Gate Park.

The night was surprisingly clear of mist and though still cool, the slight breeze that unfurled around the pair lacked the usual bite of ice, making it an all-around pleasant evening.

Tara, after having laid out a generously large blanket on the grass and dropped a grandiose weave picnic basket in the middle, flopped carelessly onto her back, earning a disapproving gaze from Pam.

Tara smiled fondly at the expression.

Away from the brothel and in the sole company of Tara's presence, Pam's upper class upbringing never failed to creep unbidden into her mannerisms.

It was present now; in the way Pam sat a little straighter, her skirted legs tucked neatly to the side of her lithe frame. One hand absentmindedly brushed away a stray strand of corn silk hair whilst the other daintily plucked the hat off her head, placing it next to her with a fluid grace that could only be afford to the rich.

"Are you pleased to be alone with me, my lady?"

Pam turned at Tara's words, eyes fashioned from sapphire locking onto deep wells of midnight. "I am," she returned, her own voice soft, hushed almost. She turned her gaze up to the endless diamond sky, her expression melting into one of contemplation.

"What do you see?" Her tone had taken on a dreamy cadence as she regarded the twinkling stars.

"Unparalleled beauty," came a raspy husk.

Pam rolled her eyes at the words, knowing they were directed at her and not the sky. Her feigned indifference was rather ruined however, by the slight creep of heat that dusted her pale cheeks with hints of pink.

"I meant the sky," she elucidated, drawling her words slightly.

"Why look at the sky when I can observe instead, the beguiling stars in your eyes?" Tara observed softly.

"You'd best start cataloguing your stock of compliments, Ms. Thornton," Pam murmured around a small smile. "Pretty soon, you'll have run out of sweet things to say to me."

Tara smiled a sweet smile of her own. "Never." She then scrambled back into a sitting position and drew the picnic basket towards her, sudden eagerness in every move. "Are you hungry?"

The vampire didn't wait for a reply as she flicked open the top of the basket and began rooting about inside. Out came neatly wrapped if lumpy package of what Pam assumed was sandwiches. Blue eyes widened as Tara continued to pull out multiple packages of all shapes and sizes until she had a nice pile of food stacked atop each other like a swaying, precarious tower.

Pale fingers reached out and curled around a defined forearm. "Tara."

Tara turned, one hand still in the basket. "What's the matter?"

Pam inclined towards the supply of food, which looked more than enough to feed a small contingent. "That is more food that I can afford to eat, I'm afraid." Her voice held a touch of amusement though the blonde was careful to convey her remorse through her eyes.

Tara's face adopted a faintly sheepish expression as she pulled out the item her midnight kissed fingers had themselves around.

It was an orange.

The vampire held the fruit out in front of her, balancing it on the palm of her hand. She stared at it, head cocked and eyes amusingly inquisitive before they turned perplexed as Tara took to staring at the orange as though it were suddenly to grow fangs and bite her.

Pam chuckled under her breath, undeniably entertained and rather charmed by Tara's constant bewilderment with human food. Reaching over, she took the orange from Tara's hand.

"It must seem rather strange to you, our habitual need for sustenance."

Tara closed the lid on the basket and returned to her reclining position on the blanket. One arm slid under her head, cushioning it. "You have such a wide array of foods to choose from," she mused as she cast a sidelong glance at Pam. "Is it not an awful inconvenience, choosing what to eat each day?"

Pam shrugged as she slipped a nail under the fruit's skin and began peeling it back. "The different foods allow us to have preferences and variety in our meals." A sudden thought occurred to her and she turned a suddenly solemn gaze onto Tara. "Have you...eaten?"

Tara allowed a bittersweet smile to flit across her lips, Pam's hesitancy over the last word not escaping her notice. "I have," she replied quietly. "Enough to slack my thirst so rest easy, Princess. You are in no danger."

"I know you won't harm me," Pam revealed to Tara, her voice equally quiet. She stared openly into dark eyes, her own blue-gray ones imploring the vampire to believe her.

Tara inclined her head. "I am honored by your implicit trust."

Silence sang a sweet aria after that, crooning a soft, soothing if somewhat melancholic tune.

Pam slipped an orange slice into her mouth, chewing contemplatively, fully aware of Tara's eyes on her. The vampire's gaze was like a pair of phantom hands, her palpable aura aiding this illusion until the blonde could almost feel the caress of fingers against her cheek and down the pale column of her throat.

Two could play this game.

Pam brought the orange slice to her lips with a deliberate slowness. Her lips parted and puckered slightly to receive the fruit, cheeks hollowing out delicately.

Tara sat up in response, dark eyes immediately fixated on those lush, full lips. With her back ramrod straight and her head cocked to the side, the vampire perfectly mirrored the image of an inquisitive hound with ears perked and eyes keen as it observed its quarry.

Pam smiled inwardly, a delicious shiver caressing the line of her spine as the air suddenly crackled with energy. Knowing that she now had Tara's full and undivided attention, she slipped the succulent fruit halfway into her mouth then bit down. Juice starburst onto her tongue, spraying onto her lips and a moist tongue made a brief, if lingering appearance as she swallowed, peeking out to lick at the residual moisture that clung to crimson lips.

A triumphant grin pulled at the corners of her lips when a low rumble sounded from the depths of Tara's chest. Halfway between a purr and a growl, there was no mistaking who that sound came from.

"You're teasing me, Ms. Beaufort." Choppy words, barely coherent under the low contralto register that had encased Tara's Southern twang.

"I am," Pam drawled around her patented Mona Lisa smile. She slipped the remaining orange slice into her mouth, moaning softly and more wantonly than necessary as the sweet if slightly tart fruit enticed her taste buds into a sensual dance brought on by the rhythm of flavors leaching from the orange.

The sound of Pam's moan went straight to the suddenly and embarrassingly damp nook hidden between Tara's legs and she clenched them in response, groaning in a manner that made it seem as though she were in agony.

Which, in a way, she was.

Tara threw herself onto her back in a grand show of dramatic flair, one arm flinging itself over her eyes, a futile attempt to shield them from the seductive sight that was the curvature of Pam's full lips.

The gesture proved piteously futile.

The blonde's mouth and tongue loving that piece of fruit with such sensual care had permanently burned an image behind her eyelids.

"You are going to be the death of me," Tara lamented, her voice theatrically resigned.

Pam chortled and finished up the fruit at a normal pace.

"Tara?"

"Mmm?"

"What's it like?"

Tara removed her arm from her face and turned to her side, propping her head up on an elbow she settled against the blanket. "What's what like, Pamela?"

Pam finished the orange and deposited the skin on the blanket near the picnic basket. "Being what you are," she elaborated.

Tara sighed and it was a sound that was sweet and full of sorrow. "I'm afraid it would take several of your lifetimes for me to answer that." She stared at Pam then, her eyes soft with reverence. "Come lie beside me," she beseeched in a soft tone.

Pam complied, partly because she sensed Tara needed the closeness and partly because it was what she had secretly been wanting to do all night.

The blonde laid down on her back, propping one hand behind her head as she had seen Tara do a while ago.

Tara remained on her side, looking down at Pam with such gentleness in her eyes that it threatened to make blue orbs fill with tears.

"There is a whole new world out there," Tara told Pam, her voice hushed as though she were telling a story. Her unoccupied hand snuck out, reaching over to play with a strand of corn silk hair that in the soft glow of the moonlight, looked like spun gold dust. "The planet is in a constant state of flux, ever changing, always growing."

"And you've watched it change and grow, haven't you?"

Tara nodded, sifting the silky strand of golden-blonde hair between her thumb and forefinger, a look of enchantment painted across the dark features of her face

"There are a thousand things to see," Tara whispered softly. "A million things," she corrected. A soft smile graced her lips as the moon above them shifted out from behind a bloated dusky cloud, shining down on them until Pam was lying in a spill of silver-white light.

She was, Tara concluded silently, the most resplendent being she had ever laid eyes on.

"Things and places and people that abound in shining, shimmering splendor. But right now," Tara continued as she twined the lock of hair around her finger. "I wish to start with the impeccable blue of your eyes."

She stared openly then, her gaze naked, unapologetic.

Pam's eyes were a thousand shades of blue, the gray flecks within them floating like chips of ice in an arctic sea.

It was a sea Tara would gladly drown herself in.

"Tara..."

"I have walked this earth for centuries, Pamela," Tara confessed. She moved her hand, dropping the lock of hair only for her fingers to find purchase on the soft, warm skin of Pam's cheek. "I have seen empires fall and battles fought. I have sought and bedded courtesans, queens, princesses, milkmaids and merchants' daughters." A lone finger moved down like a whisper of silk to trace a full crimson bottom lip. "But I have never, never come across a creature more beauteous than you. And I know I never again will."

Pam knew she should have felt that hot sting of jealously at Tara's words, at her confession of bedding so many before her. But, instead, all she felt was an almost desperate need to comfort, Tara's voice holding so much pain, so much awe. So, she kissed softly, the finger that lingered on her lip, feeling acutely, the tremor that followed up that beautifully muscled arm, currently hidden by layers of clothing.

"You bespell me, Pamela."

Pam didn't answer. She simply shifted closer, gently pushed at Tara's shoulders. A blonde eyebrow arched when Tara resisted.

Tara arched a dark brow back, an impish smirk playing about the corners of her mouth.

Pam rolled her eyes and pushed again at a block of beautifully sculpted muscle.

"Lie back, you stubborn vampire," Pam chided affectionately.

Tara smirked. "Or?"

"I'll retract my invitation to share my warmth," Pam shot right back.

"Well now, we can't have that, can we?" Tara murmured as she allowed the gentle pressure of Pam's warm palm to guide her back down to a reclining position.

Pam curled up against Tara's side and laying her head on her dark savior's strong shoulder, she breathed out a sigh. It was a sound of complete and utter contentment, one that was promptly recycled as the vampire wrapped a protective arm around her, her movements shy, hesitant almost before it tightened, a slow curl of unapologetic possession. Tara's other hand wandered down, searching and finding warm fingers of snow.

The vampire laced their fingers together, brought them up to her stomach and let them alight, settle.

Safe in Tara's cool embrace, and surrounded by a scent she was starting to know better than her own, Pam turned her eyes up to the stars.

Dark eyes followed, regarding the ink black sky with its stars that glittered like flawless jewels.

They stayed that way for the rest of the night.

**TBC**


	9. Say Goodnight

**A/N – **The song that inspired this chapter and its title was Eli Young Band's _Say Goodnight_. I can't put the link here but if you YouTube it, you should be able to find it. Thanks to all who read my previous chapter and left a review. Y'all have made some amazing observations and I am grateful that you took the time to share them with me. Here's the next chapter and I hope everyone is having a swell weekend. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 9 – Say Goodnight**

Tara dropped Pam off at her doorstep precisely on the first stroke of midnight.

"Do you think midnight a 'respectable hour'?" Tara murmured as she stared distractingly at the open pocket watch she held in the palm of her hand, her other arm already extending back towards the carriage to assist the blonde down the rickety, retractable steps.

Pam took the proffered hand, a fond smile touching the corners of her lips as she regarded her dark savior.

Tara had a look on her face that she had seen many a time in her youth. It was a look that shuttered back and forth between trepidation and uncertainty, a look that many of Pam's would-be suitors wore when they were summoned to her father's study to make a formal address for the blonde's hand.

As Pam made her way down to the last step, the fond smile turned into a gentle huff of amused laugher as Tara suddenly glanced up, dark eyes marred with wariness as they ascertained her surroundings, as if the vampire were half expecting Mrs. Mackenzie to materialize out of the fog, brandishing a broom at her for her tardiness.

"You needn't worry," Pam whispered in a conspiratorial tone as she came to a stop in front of Tara. Crimson lips curled as Tara bestowed upon her a dreamy, gentle smile. "I promise not to tell."

"And I thank you kindly for your discretion," Tara replied as she closed the pocket watch and tucked it back into her coat pocket.

She then reached out, ran the back of her knuckles down the smooth plane of warm, soft skin, that gentle smile gracing her lips once more as blue eyes fluttered and Pam leaned almost unconsciously into her touch. "If you'll excuse me a moment."

Pam nodded, then watched through slightly hooded eyes as Tara made her way over to the driver.

"I'll walk home, Thomas," Tara informed him softly. She reached down, rooted about in a small leather pouch by her hip and drew out a coin. "Thank you," she added as she handed him the coin.

Thomas tipped his hat at Tara. "Very good, miss. Miss," he addressed Pam, bowing respectfully and tipping his hat at her.

Pam smiled. "Goodnight."

Tara walked back to Pam, her gait a contradicting mix of swagger and humble as Thomas, pulled back the retractable steps then got back into the driver's seat. One expert shake of the reins caused the horse to snort, billowing condensation out of its nostrils in twin clouds of silvery-white. Another shake of the reins caused the carriage to start off down the street at a steady gait, the horse's hooves clip-clopping gently against the cobblestones.

The pair watched as the carriage meandered down the street only to be swallowed up the fingers of fog that thickened by the minute as the air grew steadily chiller.

Tara's dark eyes refocused her attention back on Pam when she detected a slight shiver from the blonde's lithe frame.

"Time for you to head inside I think," Tara observed quietly. She reached for Pam's hand, lifted it to her lips and ghosted a soft kiss to pale knuckles. "I'll say goodnight."

Pam didn't reply. Instead, when Tara moved to release her hand, she curled snow-kissed fingers around midnight ones, effectively trapping them.

"Tara."

The vampire turned an ink-black gaze onto Pam. In the dark of night, where shadows whorled around them and slivers of fog hung in the air like weightless ghostly fingers, Pam's eyes blazed like twin beacons of blue fire.

The very sight arrested Tara and she couldn't help but stare, dark eyes openly enchanted.

"Over a month you've been in my company," Pam began, her voice hushed as caught the way Tara gaze unashamedly at her. "How is it you can still look at me with such wonder in your eyes?"

"Because I know no other way."

Dark eyes twinkled and full, dark pink lips lifted as Pam's cheeks tinted over a pale shade of rouge.

Taking advantage of their entwined hands, Tara lifted it once more to her lips and placed another kiss to soft, alabaster skin, lingering this time to nuzzle at the warmth emanating from the blonde's hand.

"_Parting is such sweet sorrow_," Tara lamented, her voice almost anguished as she turned the pale hand she held in her palm and pressed a kiss to the inside of an alabaster wrist, drawing from Pam, a delectable shiver.

"Tara?"

The vampire pressed a kiss to the inside of Pam's palm, lips lingering in a poor attempt to soak up the warmth emanating from snow-kissed skin. "Yes?"

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," Tara responded immediately. She nudged her nose against Pam's hand and inhaled deeply, a low purr sounding deep in her chest as Pam's scent, that intoxicating scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla, infused into her senses.

"Kiss me goodnight."

A dark head lifted slowly at the request, revealing equally dark eyes that ran smack into a face that epitomized the beauty of winter.

It was a face that reminded Tara of the stark magnificence brought on by snow and ice. With skin as smooth and flawless as fresh mountain snow and deep set eyes that glittered and burned like chips of ice, Pam wore a face that was meant to bring men and women to their knees.

It was a face the vampire knew she would and could forever get lost in.

"My god, you're beautiful," Tara breathed out. She took in the open vulnerability flickering in Pam's wintry blue eyes, the unsure expression sitting on the aristocratic features of her face. "Are you sure?"

"Kiss me, Tara," Pam repeated, her husky resonance imploring, her voice barely audible.

The blonde's breath hitched, heart suddenly hammering in her chest as the air around them spiked with power, Tara's indomitable energy humming through the air like a low but palpable voltage.

The vampire stepped forward, her movements neither hurried nor impatient. She released Pam's hand, used it to reach up and cup a warm cheek. She took a moment to play midnight-dipped fingers over the soft skin beneath her palm, veneration in every stroke.

Then, she leaned in ever so slowly and grazed the softest and lightest of kisses against Pam's cheek.

Tara's kiss was a paradox, another aspect of the vampire that came wrapped in enigma and contradiction.

The vampire's lips were undeniably cool but where it touched Pam's skin, it branded the alabaster flesh, leaving behind a burning phantom caress that seemed to sear right into her soul.

Pam shivered, less from the coolness of Tara's lips and more from the way those full lips left a perfect and unforgettable impression against the side of her cheek.

Even as Tara pulled back, the blonde could still feel those lips against her skin, feel it burn and sizzle, boiling the blood running through her veins.

She wanted more.

"_And a sweet expression spreads over her fair face_," Tara quoted, her voice etched in hopeless awe as she watched a slow smile tug at the corner of her crimson lips.

"I'm not familiar with that quote," Pam murmured, her voice drowsy with pleasure as Tara stroked a lone finger down her cheek. "Who's the author?"

"Sappho," Tara supplied, grinning slightly.

Pam chuckled. "How fitting."

"Indeed." The vampire pressed closer to Pam, until only a sliver of space separated their bodies.

Pam reached out in response, taking full advantage of the closeness of their bodies to play with the wind-blown strands of Tara's hair.

This close, Pam realized just how utterly fascinating the vampire's tresses were. Tara's hair was a thick mass of supple silk, its strands not only black but tinted with highlights of blue and green, as if a palette of ocean-colored paints had been upset over her head.

Pam carded limber fingers through Tara's hair, marveling at its silky softness, her blue eyes softening with affection and more than a little pride as the vampire's eyes closed with pleasure, her body leaning into the blonde's touch.

And when those hauntingly magnificent dark eyes opened so close to her own, Pam made yet another discovery, one that left her breathless and wanting.

Tara's eyes, she found, were the color of India ink, pure and true, with only the barest hints of lighter flecks that were the color of molten chocolate.

It was a sight that stole Pam's breath away.

"It's not possible for one to possess such beauty," Pam disclosed as she twirled a lock of Tara's hair around her finger.

"I agree," Tara replied. She reached up and plucked the pale hand that had taken purchase on her hair and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Pam's palm.

"Sometimes," Tara began softly as she locked a midnight gaze with pools of azure blue. "when I look at you I have to wonder if I'm dreaming for I have never come across such flawlessness given breath and life."

Pam ducked her head at this, heat creeping up to warm her cheeks.

Two fingers tucked themselves under her cheek and forced her head to raise, to look back into unashamed and openly affection eyes of pitch.

"The gods broke the mold when they made you, Ms. Beaufort."

Pam shook her head, affectionate exasperation tracing the curvature of her lips. "Still in possession of that sweet tongue, I see," she teased, her eyes lighting up when Tara sent her way, a charming smile. "Now, how about a _real_ kiss this time, Ms. Thornton?"

Tara arched a dark brow at Pam's forwardness. "Was the previous one unsatisfactory?"

Pam chuckled. "No, but it wasn't what I was looking for."

Tara's dark brow arched further but when she saw a dare burning in the blue of Pam's eyes, her lips twisted into a cocky smirk.

"Very well. Allow me to correct my mistake."

Taking a purposeful step forward, she used the momentum of her body to compel Pam to take one back until the blonde was pressed up against the railings of the stairs.

"_Now a soft kiss_," Tara murmured, her voice dropping an octave. She reached out, braced her hands on either side of Pam and leaned in.

Two simultaneous sighs escaped and mingled in the crisp, night air as Tara touched her lips to Pam's. It was nothing more than a brush of full lips against full lips but it invoked in both women, a shiver that was palpable.

"_Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss_," Tara finished softly before she ghosted another kiss onto Pam's sweet mouth, pressing a little harder this time.

Pam moaned at the prolonged contact.

Tara's kiss was careful, shy almost but there was no mistaking just how much that simple brush of the vampire's lips against her own held the finesse of a highly skilled lover.

"A vampire who so eloquently recites poetry," Pam murmured as their lips parted. She stared at Tara through heavily lidded eyes, desire and gentle mockery flirting with the blue of her eyes. "Will wonders never cease?"

Tara grinned that cocky half-smile, half-smirk. "I am well versed in the words of poets and bards," she bragged. "Shall I regale you with a sonnet? Shakespeare perhaps?"

"While utterly tempting, I fear for the size of your ego once that venture is complete," Pam drawled in a dry tone. Blue eyes twinkled down at Tara when the vampire chuckled lowly. "Why not regale me with another kiss instead?"

Pam reached up and boldly wrapped her arms around Tara's neck, pulling her close so that their bodies were now flush against each other. She leaned forward, eyes already closing as full crimson lips searched for equally full dark pink ones.

Pam quivered almost violently when their lips reunited and a low keen tickled the walls of her throat as Tara applied gentle pressure.

Tara purred into her mouth, a low rumble that made her chest vibrate. The sounds went straight from Tara's chest to between Pam's legs and the blonde fought hard not to press more wantonly against her dark savior's body of sculpted muscles.

Sandalwood.

Musk and cloves.

Pam was lost in a world of sensation and scent, unable to think beyond the feel of Tara's soft lips against hers and the way the vampire's scent unfurled around her like a drowsing cat roused from slumber.

Tara's arms shook violently where they bracketed either side of Pam, her fingers curling almost fatally against the railings they held on to. The bouquet of lavender and honeysuckle tied together by that one lone, melancholic strand of vanilla was addling her better judgment, beating down her common sense.

The vampire pulled back, vying for control of her baser needs but Pam surged forward, reclaiming now swollen lips until they were back to plaint and dancing with her own.

Tara sipped at Pam's mouth, tasting from it, her soul, which was as sweet and sad and pure as the woman who possessed it.

It made her want more and Tara opened her mouth slightly, just enough so that Pam's full bottom lip slipped naturally into her mouth. She suckled on the succulent flesh, nursing from it, that sweet, sorrowful flavor that made her heart clench in the most painful of ways.

Pam played with the fine hairs on the back of Tara's neck, sifting her fingers through all that gossamer black hair with its highlights of green and blue. She pulled back slightly so that once again, their lips simply brushed against each other's, the contact simple but oh, so sweet.

Tara's entire body was wracked with tremors as their kiss began a gradual, instinctual deepening. She could feel her gums beginning its insolent ache, felt that primal call of her beast, a call that beseeched her to possess, to claim, to mark.

Dark fingers gripped harder at the railings, denting them as she struggled with the beast she housed within her.

'_Control_,' Tara cautioned herself. She mustn't lose control.

It was an illusion and a poorly crafted one at that for when Pam's tongue swiped over Tara's full bottom lip, control shattered like glass hitting the floor and the vampire's fangs dropped with an audible click.

Confusion hit Pam like a sack of bricks when an unnatural gust of wind ruffled the hems of her skirts and the front of her body was suddenly devoid of a frame of well sculpted muscles.

More importantly and painfully, her lips were now devoid of the soft lushness of Tara's.

The blonde turned and found the vampire standing on the either side of the steps, head turned away so that it was steeped in shadow.

"Tara?"

She took a step forward but when Tara held out a shaking hand, she froze. "What's the matter?"

Tara's entire body was tense, the air around her buzzing with agitation, her indomitable energy sluicing over Pam's lithe frame like a turbulent wave.

"Tara?"

The vampire looked like she was in physical pain, so still and tense she stood, the hand on her side clenching and unclenching as though it were trying to grip something that repeatedly slipped through those midnight-kissed fingers.

"Control is but a distant memory when I'm with you," the vampire finally admitted after a silent few seconds, her voice hoarse and sounding as though she were in complete and utter agony.

When Pam stepped forward, Tara retreated further into shadow, almost melting into the darkness as she fought to regain some self-control, to temper down the bloodlust that screamed an angry aria through her veins.

A warm hand on her cheek had the vampire shuddering and exhaling sharply and she jerked away as though it branded her.

"Pamela..."

"Look at me."

"I don't think…"

"Look. At. Me."

Unable to deny the simple request, Tara turned, revealing to Pam, eyes that were harsh with desire and fangs that protruded slightly over a full bottom lip.

"There you are."

Pam reached out, her thumb almost grazing the pointed tip of one fang when Tara's hand circled her wrist, halting her movements.

"Don't."

"Why?" Pam took a deliberate step forward, forcing Tara to backpedal, a reversal of the delicate dance Tara had started moments ago.

There was a soft thump as Tara's back hit the small sliver of wall that separated Pam's house from her neighbor's.

Pam smiled and it was a coy, victorious smile as Tara's eyes dilated and a low growl sounded from between her slightly parted lips.

"You are playing with fire," the vampire warned, her voice sub-vocal.

She tightened the grip she had on Pam's wrist, hard enough to put emphasis to her words but not hard enough to bruise.

"Then let it burn me," Pam whispered, her voice dropping several registers until it was no more than a rough husk. "Let it burn and use your lips to kiss away the sting of its fiery caress."

Tara, in one swift move, reversed their positions so that it was now Pam who was backed up against the wall. She kept the pale hand she still held captive pinned above a blonde head, her body flush against Pam's and quivering like a plucked string.

"You're playing with fire, Pamela," Tara repeated, her voice suddenly dangerous with equal amounts of warning and desire. "And a fire is hard to control." Dark eyes bore into sapphire blue. "Tell me to leave."

Pam shook her head.

"Come and kiss me," Pam husked instead, managing to sound braver and more confident than she actually felt for when she stared into Tara's eyes, they were nothing more than fathomless pools of pitch, burning with danger and heat and fringed with such naked, open desire that it was an almost tangible entity.

It was a look that was unlike anything Pam had seen before, so unapologetic and intense it was.

And all of it was directed at her.

She leaned forward, feeling Tara's cool, ragged breath against her lips. Blue eyes threatened to roll to the back of her head as Pam was almost overwhelmed by the scent of musk, cloves and sandalwood.

She parted her lips, letting the vampire's wild and earthy scent to drug her senses, infuse into her pores.

When eyes fashioned from obsidian flicked down to stare at her lips, Pam's resolve hardened.

"Kiss me, Tara."

The request was desperate, commanding, _needing_ and Tara gave in, slanting her lips over Pam's, her entire body shaking so hard that it looked as though she were having the fits.

Pam shivered against that tense, trembling body, feeling acutely every defined and bunched muscle, every iota of raw, primal strength. It slithered over her, into her, phantom hands that stroked fingers down her arms, over her belly and down to the dampening flesh between her legs.

She moaned when Tara applied pressure to her mouth, teasing Pam with a mere suggestion of fang and tongue, the former sending a thrill of fear and the latter boiling her blood.

"I can taste your fear, Pamela" Tara rasped against Pam's lips as she kept the blonde pinned against the wall. She ducked her head, nuzzled her nose against a rapidly beating pulse and growled. "I can smell your desire, thick and potent." Another growl as she ran the tips of her fangs down the side of a pale neck. "Tell me, do you taste as sweet as you smell?"

Pam cupped the back of Tara's head, quaking fingers carding through the silky strands. "Some things should remain a mystery until the right time comes along." She turned and pressed a kiss to Tara's cool cheek, eliciting a visible tremor in response. "Don't you think?"

Tara didn't answer, couldn't find the strength to formulate a verbal, cohesive sentence, not when her fangs ached with a thousand hurts and her body thrummed painfully with want of Pam.

The vampire released the grip she had on Pam's wrist and assisted it back down to her side. Unable to resist, she pressed one last kiss directly over an erratic pulse point then stepped away. She turned around, nostrils flaring as she sought for a knot of briny air to cleanse away the heady scent that was her blonde companion.

"Do I affect you so easily?"

"More than you can possibly comprehend," Tara admitted, keeping her back to Pam as she drew in deep breaths of the cold night air, fists clenching as she sought to quell the inferno that raged through her sinewy frame.

Pam steadied herself against the wall, her legs currently proving unreliable as they trembled under her slight weight. Pale fingers dug into the grooves of the stone wall, using it to regain some semblance of equilibrium even as her tongue peeked out to lap up the residual taste of Tara's lips.

"Would it soothe your pain to know that you have just as much sway over me?"

Tara turned at the admission, dark eyes holding a wealth of secrets. She forcibly retracted her fangs, ignored how they almost audibly howled with rage at being denied penetration into soft, warm pale flesh.

Then, she held Pam's gaze, eyes that in the ever growing dark, blazed like blue beacons in the night. "Do you know what the poets say when they discuss the subject that is a kiss?"

"Tell me," Pam implored, her voice soft.

Tara held out a hand and Pam took it, allowing Tara to guide her back out between the two Victorian houses and back to her front steps.

"_A kiss is something you cannot give without taking and cannot take without giving,_" Tara recited, her voice a low contralto, soothing and sweet as honey. "It is a transaction that requires the willingness of two, a sensual dance that balances delicately, dominance and submission."

"And what a dance it was," Pam murmured as Tara guided her up to her front door.

"Indeed," Tara agreed, her voice soft. "But the cunning sensuality of your lips has left my control and dignity in tatters so this is where I say goodnight, Ms. Beaufort."

Pam cupped Tara's cheek. "You need not hide yourself from me, Tara," she told the vampire softly, having heard the regret in Tara's voice clang loudly against that Southern drawl. "The world isn't divided into black and white and nor are the people living in it." She traced a kiss-swollen lip, felt the escape of a ragged cool breath washing against her wandering thumb. "Just because you are a creature of the night does not mean you are evil."

"Are you sure about that?" Dark eyes blazed into cerulean pools. "If I reveal to you, the stains of my past, the blood on my hands and the death in my eyes, will you still look at me as you do now?"

"Yes."

Quiet words. Confident words.

Tara kissed the thumb that lingered on her lips. "I do not deserve your mercy."

"But you have it all the same," Pam replied. She smiled then, infusing a trace of haughtiness into her eyes. "Now, come and bestow upon me one last kiss goodnight."

Tara chortled but obeyed. She leaned forward until only their lips touched ever so slightly. Then, she ghosted a soft, reverent kiss over pouting lips.

"I bid thee a good night, Ms. Beaufort."

"Good night, Tara."

Tara pulled back, bowed then reached for a pale hand. She brushed her lips against pale knuckles, let her mouth linger against smooth, soft, warm skin then sighed and released it.

"Pleasant dreams, Princess," Tara offered. She ran the back of her hand down a still flushed cheek, allowed herself a moment of indulgence as she stared, besotted, into Pam's eyes then turned and walked down the steps.

Pam watched her go until the fog swallowed Tara into its silvery-white embrace.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2–** Quotes I borrowed:

"_Parting is such sweet sorrow…"_ – Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

"_And a sweet expression spreads over her fair face"_ – Sappho

"_Now a soft kiss. Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss_." – John Keats

"_A kiss is something you cannot give without taking and cannot take without giving,_" – Anonymous


	10. Set Fire To The Rain

**A/N** – Chapter title is taken from Adele's _Set Fire to the Rain_. Thanks for all those who not only took the time to read but also left a review. Y'all are awesome! Hope you enjoy this new chapter; have fun!

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**Chapter 10 – Set Fire to the Rain**

Having finally been granted a taste of Pam's sweet, succulent lips, Tara found herself in a persistent and maddeningly state of starvation.

She had tasted the forbidden fruit, let it seduce her mouth and tongue into a sinful world of sensation and pleasure.

And now she was addicted.

No kiss with Pam was ever enough. No press of that beautifully sculpted mouth against her cool flesh satiated the ravenous, howling beast that the blonde had unleashed within her.

It was never enough.

Not even when, after that glorious night surrounded by fog and sheltered by stars, many a kiss had been shared between the vampire and Pam.

There were slow kisses, kisses that were lazy and languid in nature. Tara would kiss Pam as though she had all the time in the world, exploring every damp nook, cranny and curve with unerring patience and sharply honed skill.

And Pam would melt. She would quiver in the safety of Tara's arms, feel her blood turn the consistency of quicksilver and moan almost pitifully when the vampire's mouth eventually departed from her own.

There were also stolen kisses, brief, fleeting snatches of intimacy that was almost too much and altogether not enough. They were birthed from urgency, spurred on by a sense of danger and spiced delicately with enough excitement to stir the senses and leave both parties panting and Pam vying for breath.

Then, there were the coy kisses.

Tara smiled, a smile that infringed upon the territories of a wicked smirk as she sauntered casually down the foggy San Francisco streets, confident swagger in her gait, her filigree black cane tapping out a steady rhythm of beats against the uneven cobblestones.

Coy kisses were Tara's favorite. A specialty of Pam's, they were kisses that were designed to tease, to push, to challenge.

Pam evoked these kisses often, much to Tara's delight. The blonde would mercilessly bait Tara by pressing her full crimson lips against soft, cool dark skin, lingering just long enough to rouse the vampire's interest to a painful, fevered pitch.

Then she would pull away, those lips of painted scarlet curling to reveal her patented Mona Lisa smile, her sapphire-cut eyes blazing with wicked satisfaction at the sight of Tara's dilated pupils and clenching fists, low growls falling in quick succession from her lips.

It was these kinds of kisses that inevitably led to heated, passionate ones for Tara never failed to break free of her reserve and control once those kisses had been bestowed upon her.

Control shattered, she would loosen the hold on her beast, claim Pam's mouth and ravage it with a raw kind of possessiveness that left the blonde mewling and Tara's gums to ache in exquisite torture.

It was sensual punishment of the purest kind.

It was a punishment that Tara sadistically found herself wanting, _needing_.

The vampire found intimate parts of her dampening as her contemplations suddenly ran rampant with carnal frivolities.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Tara murmured, her tone mocking if somewhat resigned.

Needing to see Pam, she picked up the pace, calling forth her vampiric speed that blurred the lines of her body as she bolted down the street, disturbing the thin wisps of fog that hung like shredded curtains in the cool, night air.

xxxxxxxx

By the time Tara reached the brothel, the weather had taken a turn for the worse with thunder rumbling ominously overhead and lightning streaking across the ink-black sky like a fleeting network of luminescent spider webs.

A light drizzle descended upon fog-shrouded San Francisco between one lightning flash and the next, dramatically illuminating the street in a brief spurt of unearthly light before shadows reclaimed the land, eating away at the air.

"Damn it all to hell," Tara scowled as she stalked up the brothel steps, cane tapping an agitated staccato against the ground.

The weather answered by way of an obnoxious roar of thunder before the sky spilt open and bulbous, bloated clouds retched out torrents of unrelenting rainwater.

Tara quickly ducked inside, the weather barely missing the opportunity to drench her with its sheets of water, hitting the ground instead in a cacophonous ruckus that was jarring to the vampire's sensitive ears.

Tara shook her head in exasperation as she plucked the black felt derby hat off of her head.

"Hello, miss."

The vampire looked up, eyes warming as James approached her, shrugging into a black wool outer coat as he went.

"It's coming down rather hard, James. You'd best watch your step but don't dawdle."

James nodded, fished out a gray tweed newsboy cap and tucked it haphazardly onto his head, causing tufts of dark brown hair to curl out in odd directions. "Will do, miss," he replied, smiling. "I believe the madam is in her room should you wish to see her."

Tara smiled. "Thank you but I'll wait in the parlor."

"Very good, miss. Good night."

"Hurry home," Tara told him.

The vampire watched as the doorman hurried out of the door, his muffled curse at being immediately assaulted by all that rainwater providing a brief nugget of amusement.

When James reached the last step and disappeared into a wall of fog, Tara turned back and made her way into the parlor. Leaning her cane against the side of the bar, she deposited her hat onto the counter and shrugged out of her navy frock coat, revealing an Edwardian club collar shirt with a Western bow tie. Over it was a black, striped waistcoat, which matched her black striped trousers.

She had just draped her coat over the bar counter when soft footsteps sounded on the stairs, the air around her spicing delicately with the scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

Pam.

"Tara?"

The vampire turned, a smile that was all heat and languor already unfurling across her lips as Pam glided into the parlor, looking a vision in a steel front busk black and burgundy corset with a black bow accent that sat snugly between the valley of either breast. Completing the racy outfit was a black satin ruched skirt accented with six tiny rows of ruffles at the hem and a two-finger wide black satin ribbon that circled her pale neck in a makeshift choker.

"Aren't you a sight to behold," Tara murmured, eyes darkening rapidly with desire as Pam graced her with her own half-smile, half-smirk, the blonde's ambulation towards Tara transforming from casual to seductive prowl.

Dark eyes dilated, lids going to half-mast as Pam sashayed over to her, swaying her hips with a little more emphasis then necessary.

Not that Tara was complaining.

"I was afraid you'd get caught in the rain," Pam spoke as she came to a stop in front of the entranced vampire.

"Almost. The gods are currently throwing about a frightful fit of histrionics," Tara grumbled as she reached for Pam's hand. Cradling it carefully, she brought it up to her dark pink lips and ghosted a kiss over pale knuckles, nose nuzzling at the soft skin.

She froze when the scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla came laced with a new, foreign scent.

Tobacco and whisky. With a hint of citrus.

The beast within her roared with jealous fury, batting at its cage with furious paws that had claws unsheathed.

Tara shut it up, shut it down and forced her body to relax.

"Zeus' thunderbolts are leaving the sky in tatters," she murmured instead, carefully monitoring the inflection of her voice. She pressed another kiss to soft, warm pale skin and released Pam's hand.

Pam stared at Tara, having felt something go amiss when the vampire's energy suddenly shot through the air, curdling its molecules until the blonde felt it like a subtle but undeniable pressure against her shoulders.

But the feeling was gone as suddenly as it came. Tara's face when she straightened, revealed nothing but a tender warmth in her eyes and a small smile playing about her lips.

"You speak about the Greek gods often," Pam pointed out as she took a seat on a nearby barstool, using the hand Tara automatically held out to adjust her balance.

Tara smiled and it was a smile that came laced with a hint of mischievousness. "Is that your roundabout way of seeking for information about yours truly?"

"Perhaps," Pam drawled, striving for an air of nonchalance as she swiveled slightly on the barstool until she was facing Tara.

Blue eyes sparkled with curiosity however, as Tara's expression sobered slightly; dark eyes taking on a faraway expression as yet unexplained memories snatched her away to times unknown.

"Where did you go?" Pam asked, after long moments of simply observing the contemplative vampire, her voice hushed as silence percolated into the room and lingered.

Tara, who was quietly floating listlessly in a realm of memories and dreams, latched onto the familiar husky resonance of Pam's voice and use it to draw herself back to the present.

"To a time of war and strife," Tara revealed, her voice somber, curiously longing and colored with just the barest hints of sadness. "And of peace and innovation."

Both could refer to any period of human history, Pam mused as she regarded Tara.

An odd sort of sorrow clung to the vampire, its presence neither cheerful nor upsetting. Rather, it was combination of both, an interesting concoction of opposite emotions that when blended together, spawned a feeling that was disconcerting but not uncomfortable.

"Where did you go?" Pam repeated. She reached out and wrapped pale fingers around Tara's midnight-kissed ones, squeezing for reassurance.

Tara scooted closer in response, until she was almost standing between Pam's legs. "Rome," she finally revealed, her voice husky. "An empire built by conquest and blood. Built by men whose lust for power and land knew no bounds." Dark eyes found orbs of sapphire blue. "You may think the world a savage place now but if you only knew how much blood was spilled in the quest for civilization and modernity, you would cower and scream."

Pam paled slightly, her lithe frame trembling as Tara's power screamed through the parlor, setting the air on fire until the heat of it seemed to burn her bare skin.

She rubbed at her arm with her unoccupied hand, a poor attempt to erase the palpable traces of wild, raw energy that rolled off Tara in waves.

"I apologize," Tara responded immediately when she caught the gesture. She called back her power, tamped it down to a low hum.

"There's no need," Pam murmured. She regarded Tara, pale fingers twining around the ebony ones she held captive in the palm of her hand. "Do you hail from Rome then?"

Tara shrugged as she reached out to curl a lock of loose wavy blonde hair around her finger, marveling at its silky softness. "Perhaps. I awoke a vampire in the dirt a little outside the city's gates."

"Then why the Southern drawl?" Pam inquired curiosity spiking her words.

Tara smiled. "I thought it fitting."

Dark eyes caressed Pam, invoking within her, delightful shivers that raced across her skin like phantom fingers.

"It does suit you rather," the blonde acknowledged as she traced an ebony hued finger. "I suppose you've had to wear many an accent over the years."

"Yes."

"And what of your...maker?" The word was foreign on Pam's tongue, the blonde not having quite gotten used to the peculiarities that was the makeup of the vampire world.

Tara shook her head. "I have no clue as to the identity of him. Or her," she added as an afterthought. "The bond makers and progenies share –" Tara reached up with her unoccupied hand to tap at a spot slightly above her left breast. "–was severed before I awoke."

"I am sorry." Pam squeezed at the hand she held, hoping to convey some semblance of comfort. "Tell me what I can do to chase away your sorrows."

Tara brought their linked hands up to her lips and deposited a kiss to a warm, pale hand. "If you kiss me, I promise to be happy," she whispered softly.

"Such a simple request," Pam murmured. "One I can easily remedy." She used their joined hands to tug Tara towards her.

"Come closer," Pam husked.

Tara did as told until their fronts were almost flush up against the other, the warmth from Pam's body gently siphoning delicious heat into Tara's cool one.

Pam untangled their fingers then reached up to caress Tara's smooth cheek. She reached behind Tara's head for the small leather thong that held the vampire's hair in a neat queue at the base of her neck.

Untying it, she released that mass of glorious black hair with its blue and green tints, letting it cascade down the vampire's back and over her shoulders like shimmering black water.

Placing the thong onto the bar, she then returned long, snow-kissed fingers to Tara's hair, sifting through the supple, heavy silk with an acute tenderness that almost brought tears to the vampire's eyes.

"I like it better when your hair is loose and free," Pam murmured, blue eyes utterly fascinated as she compared the inky-blackness of Tara's tresses against the pale, milky-whiteness of her skin.

"I'll take that into due consideration when we next meet," Tara replied, her voice barely a decibel above a whisper as she leaned into Pam's loving touch.

Pam smiled and burying her hand in Tara's hair, leaned forward and brushed a light kiss across Tara's waiting lips.

Tara sighed and it was a soft and contented sound as Pam's warm, sweet breath washed over her cool flesh. She mewled slightly when the blonde dug gentle fingers into her scalp, massaging lightly.

Pam's eyes went soft with affection as she watched the unapologetic way Tara reacted to her touch, the vampire all but melting against her. She kissed Tara again, initiating firmer pressure though she was careful to keep the kiss slow.

The pair traded long and languid kisses, taking their time with each other, savoring the intermingling scents of wild, earthy and spicy with feminine, sweet and powerful.

Tara wrapped a tentative hand around Pam's waist, drawing the blonde impossibly closer to her and Pam reciprocated by deepening the kiss, suckling softly at the vampire's full bottom lip.

Pam loved these slow kisses with Tara. Somehow, when the act was drawn out, everything became heightened.

Touch, scent, sound and taste.

And what a taste it was.

Tara was all spice and raw, wild earth, her scent like sin on her tongue.

And just like sin, it tempted her, made her greedy, made her want more.

She put her tongue into play, teasing the seam of Tara's lips until they parted, granting her access into the tepid dampness that was the vampire's intoxicating mouth.

The vampire quaked as Pam's tongue ventured boldly into the wet, warm cavern of her mouth, tasting, teasing, exploring.

When the tip of that wicked pink tongue grazed the very spot on her gums that housed her fangs, Tara pulled back, albeit reluctantly.

"Why do you torment me so?" the vampire asked, her voice reduced to nothing but a hoarse rasp, desire damaging the muscles of her vocal cords.

"Why do you let me?" Pam retaliated, her own husky voice slipping into one of British refinement.

Tara smiled at the audial change, loving how, when unguarded or overwhelmed with emotion, the blonde's English inflection would slip unbidden onto her tongue, softening her cadence and stirring up heat in the vampire's eyes.

"Sovereignty over my better judgment flees at the mere sight of you, I'm afraid," Tara admitted. "In your presence, I can only obey and please."

"Then obey me now," Pam murmured as she drew Tara's lips back down to hers. "Kiss me again."

And Tara did just that, relinquishing just a little bit of her self-control and lust, enough to kiss Pam with a fervor that elicited wanton moans and pale fingers clutching at her shoulders.

xxxxxxxx

The rain had quelled to a light drizzle that only fed the heavy, damp mist that permeated the streets.

Pam was huddled in Tara's frock coat, the vampire stubbornly insisting the blonde wear it, never mind the detriment to her own attire.

"Your clothes will become sodden," Pam admonished as Tara led her around a muddy puddle.

"I am impervious to the petulance of Mother Nature," the vampire replied patiently as she tucked Pam's hand back under her arm. "You, on the other hand, Princess, will catch your death of cold should your garments become damp with rain."

"Aren't we high and mighty all of a sudden," Pam snarked, sarcasm poisoning her muddled American lilt.

Tara rolled her eyes. "Does your obstinacy know no bounds, woman?"

"Apparently not," came the lazy drawl.

Tara chuckled lowly at the aptly timed retort then turned to face Pam who was already staring at her, azure blue eyes almost electric in their vibrancy and color.

"Oh, I'm beginning to know that look," the vampire murmured as she guided them round the corner of the street.

"Do you now?" A pale brow rose and a coy smirk lingered at the corners of full crimson painted lips as Pam regarded Tara's profile.

Tara gave a stiff nod. "It is a look that bespeaks of trouble." Dark eyes slanted a cautionary gaze sideways, running into sly blue ones. "Trouble I know, will no doubt demand full surrender of my common sense."

Pam gave into the smirk that had been warring with her self-control. She let it slash a wicked lined across her face as she reached out with her unoccupied hand and dragged a lone finger down the side of Tara's neck, successfully calling forth a visible shiver.

"Pamela…"

Ignoring the way Tara practically growled out her name, Pam leaned in and grazed her lips against the side of the vampire's jaw.

Tara reacted by spinning Pam into a nearby brick wall, the blonde's back connecting with the solid object with a soft but audible thump.

"You are testing the limits of my self-control, Ms. Beaufort," she spoke, her voice almost sub-vocal. "Have you no sense of self-preservation at all?"

"You won't harm me."

Calm words. Confident words.

Pam gazed brazenly into orbs of pitch, finding within the whorls of midnight and ink, a fierce, possessive kind of desire that on anyone else but Tara, she would find petrifying.

Around them, the mist thickened, damp fingers reaching past cotton, wool and tweed to infuse the cold of night into a warm body of painted alabaster.

"Oh, I wouldn't play with that fire in your eyes, Princess," Tara murmured, her voice low, seductive and all at once dangerous. She leaned in and nosed at Pam's neck, purring deeply as she took in deep pulls of lavender and honeysuckle, concentrating momentarily to locate that lone strand of vanilla. "With how much I currently ache for you, my desire could set fire to the rain."

As if enraged by Tara's blithe comment, the heavens once again opened, thunder roaring dramatically as plumes of dark-gray clouds spat out torrents of raindrops with vindictive fury.

The sound of rain bulleting down onto rooftops and cobblestone streets set of a staccato orchestra that rang through Pam and Tara's ears, the former shivering slightly as the rain pelted her with relentless force while Tara simply kept her body pressed against Pam's, completely unaffected.

"We've angered the gods," Tara murmured, her tone distracted as dark eyes followed the rivulets of rainwater meandering down the column of a pale neck. Her tongue quickly followed suit, the vampire turning it into a velvet tool with which she used to trace the path the rain had marked onto pale skin.

Pam moaned as Tara licked at the droplets of rainwater from her neck, pausing intermittently to nuzzle at the her erratically beating pulse. She shivered when Tara voluntarily distended her fangs, ran its pointed tips across vulnerable, warm flesh.

Pam was somewhat disquieted to discover that there was a part of her that wanted Tara to claim her in such primal a manner.

"Tara..."

The vampire growled in response as she pressed a kiss to the throbbing jugular vein on the side of Pam's neck. It was engorged with blood, pulsating and calling to her like a siren's song.

Tara yanked her head back up and captured Pam's lips in a bruising kiss, needing the distraction of that sweet succulent flesh to abate the almost undeniable urge to sink her teeth into the blonde's throat.

Pam returned the kiss with almost desperate eagerness, moaning and panting into Tara's mouth as the vampire ravaged her with teeth, lips and tongue, her fangs still protracted but only grazing lightly over her full bottom lip.

Around them, rain fell in near visible sheets, drenching the entwined pair until their clothes stuck to their bodies and water pooled at their feet.

Above them, lightning streaked across the sky, wild and rampant, slicing through the midnight canvas brought on by the dark of night. Thunder provided the audial dramatics, booming loudly and obnoxiously though its sound went about unheard by the furiously kissing couple.

Lightning flashed, bright and blinding, washing the streets in a luminescent glow of eerie yellow-white. The light was brief, fleeting but it was enough to sluice the kissing pair with its brilliance until one half of their faces were aglow with light and the other encased in shadow.

And then, it was gone.

Pam took the advantage of being thrust back in darkness to tug boldly at Tara's lower lip with her teeth. She bit down on it, leaving a neat impression of her teeth against the pillow-y flesh.

Tara growled, pressed Pam further into the wall and reclaimed possession of crimson lips, tasting on it the dewy residue of rain along with the blonde's inebriating scent.

"Do you want me?" Pam rasped as Tara tore away her lips to placed a strategic line of kisses down the side of Pam's jaw.

"With every wretched fiber of my being," Tara rumbled, her voice contralto as she nipped at Pam's chin, immediately laving a tongue over the small bite to sooth the slight hurt.

Pam knocked Tara's hat off her head, the vampire's cane already lying on the ground greased with rain.

Tugging free Tara's hair once more, she buried her hand into the silky strands then grabbed a fistful of it.

"Prove it," she dared, her voice so husky it hurt her throat.

Tara growled low in her throat, grabbed one of Pam's hands then pinned it above her head.

"We need to have a conversation about your lack of self-preservation, Ms. Beaufort," she practically snarled.

Pam smiled, a smile that was all heat and languor, sending the desire burning in her eyes into a raging inferno. She was so heated from Tara's kisses that she half expected the rain slashing down on her to sizzle and steam when it touched her skin.

"Later," she purred, arching her neck forward so that her lips were a hairsbreadth away from Tara's. "Right now, I just want you to kiss me."

Infallibly unable to deny any request that emerged from those crimson lips, the vampire did as bade.

She kissed Pam, furiously, unrelentingly and possessively, never mind the rain sluicing down from the sky, the thunder that roared like a starved beast or the lightning that knifed across the sky in brilliant ragged streaks of blinding white.

She was too busy creating a storm of her own.

**TBC**


	11. Dance With Me

**A/N** – Went to see _Epic_ in the cinemas over the weekend. It reminded me of _Honey, I Shrunk the Kids_ but waaay cooler. There are little warrior tribes hiding in the woods! With talking slugs! I'm telling you now, there is nothing COOLER than a talking slug. *grins* Happy reading!

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**Chapter 11 – Dance with Me**

Thick fingers of non-corporeal fog unfurled lazily in the air, lending to its surroundings, a trace of dampness and a dramatic atmosphere of intrigue.

Tara paid the less than forthcoming weather no mind, too busy observing quietly, Pam's profile. Discretion aided every stroke of dark eyes down alabaster skin, the vampire not wanting to disturb her companion's deep ruminations.

The blonde was quiet tonight, sailing away in a sea of contemplation that brought forth a melancholic sadness, which stung and burned in the air like smoke.

Tara didn't begrudge the fact that something was amiss but neither did she push for an answer. Pam was entitled to her broodings and however much Tara wanted to chase away whatever demons that currently held the blonde's attention shackled, she knew when to prod and when to let things be.

So she didn't push.

But neither did she pull away.

The vampire kept silent vigil at Pam's side, a shadow that found substance. A small pocket of space separated their bodies but their hands were attingent, long fingers of snow twining almost absentmindedly against limber fingers of ebony.

Tara watched, simultaneously concerned and enthralled as Pam's eyes went half-mast, cheeks hollowing out ever so delicately as she took in a pull of the cold night air only to release it in a gentle plume of smoky-white. Sapphire hued eyes, so bright and vivid amidst the dark of night, cast a look heavenward, searching the fog shrouded sky for something that was plainly out of reach.

And when those eyes of steel-gray and winter-blue returned to contemplating the persistent slivers of silvery-gray fog in front of them, they came burdened with a palpable sorrow that sliced a silver blade through Tara's heart.

"Dance with me."

Pam jerked, startled by the unexpected audial intrusion. Having started their nightly walk in silence, with both parties letting it steep into the very air around them, the abrupt emergence of Tara's low alto was akin to a gunshot.

A blonde head turned, revealing slowly, loose wisps of lightly curled flaxen hair that framed an aristocratic face housing eyes currently the color of a tempestuous winter sea.

"I'm sorry?"

Tara allowed herself a moment of indulgence, allowed herself to be mesmerized by Pam's wintry beauty.

The blonde was all snow and darkness, an entrancing combination of light and dark. With the fog twining around her and a weak beam of moonlight spilling onto her lithe frame, Pam's pale skin was almost translunary, as if she glowed from the inside out. But surrounding her, encasing her, was a heavy sadness, one that left a dark stain around all that glow.

Still, despite that, despite the inner turmoil Tara could taste on her tongue like a bitter pill, Pam proved to be as divine and as captivating a sight as the vampire had ever seen.

"Dance with me."

Soft words. Gentle words. Tara's stalwart Southern drawl was subdued as it wrapped itself around those three words, allowing them to transpire from between her lips smooth and soothing as a lullaby.

Pam didn't answer as Tara brought them to a stop directly under the spotlight of a lamppost, bathing them in instantly in a warm wash of aurulent light.

Instead, she released the hold she had on Tara's hand and took a small step back, using the opportunity of their halted ambulation to simply observe the urbane and sophisticated representation that hugged her dark savior like a well fitted glove.

Tonight, Tara was perfectly attired in the clothes of an upper class gentleman. A white high collar dress shirt was worn under a double breasted black waistcoat with a black cotton cravat encircling her neck. Fall front black trousers whispered over polished black spat boots and a hunter green tailcoat with velvet trimmings completed the outfit.

The vampire's only other accessories were a wooden walking stick with a faux ivory knob handle and a silk black top hat.

Devastatingly handsome.

That was the only description that came to Pam's mind as she tracked a visual path down the length of that sinewy body and while handsome proved not to be a suitable adjective for a woman, the blonde could conjure up no other word.

Azure blue eyes glided in an almost lazy fashion down the length of Tara's front, its owner tracing, memorizing every nook and feminine curve.

And when they returned back up to Tara's face, those eyes of a vivid cerulean blue collided with a pair of twinkling ink-filled orbs that in the dark, shone like black jewels set aflame.

A soft smile flirted with full crimson lips, momentarily chasing away the sadness in the blue of her eyes as Pam realized that Tara was fully aware of her blonde's scrutiny of her attire.

"You look very refined this evening," she complimented Tara, her voice sincere if a tad huskier with still currently unnamed emotions.

Tara leaned her walking stick against the side of the lamppost.

Then, she held out a hand. "Dance with me," she implored for a third time, a small smile playing about her lips when Pam arched an eyebrow at her.

"What, here? Now?" Pam asked, a touch of incredulousness tinting her voice. Blue eyes were amused though, contradicting the disbelieving inflection.

"Yes," Tara nodded. "Here. Now." The vampire's eyes darkened slightly as she took in the alluring sight that was her blonde companion. "Dance with me, Pamela."

"There's no music," Pam murmured, her protest utterly half-hearted as she stepped forward and slipped her hand into Tara's cool one.

"We'll make some," Tara whispered as she drew Pam to her until their bodies were lightly touching. She guided one of Pam's hands to her shoulder, her own snaking around the blonde's trim waist.

Then, she clasped their remaining hands together, their skins of ebony and snow creating a contrast that was as lovely and as enigmatic as the two women on the street.

Safely entwined in each other's embrace, Tara began guiding them around that distorted spotlight courtesy of the lamppost shining above them.

"_I can see it in your eyes, you've had a long day,"_ Tara sang softly as she leaned in slightly her lips one whisper shy of grazing a soft, pale ear. "_So let's lock the door and put some music on." _She ghosted a barely there kiss to the line of Pam's jaw, tightened her grip slightly when Pam visibly shivered. "_Now, come and put your hand in mine."_

"_Dance with me,"_ Tara crooned, her voice a low alto, simultaneously lulling Pam into an aroused and drowsy state.

The blonde sighed, contentment rendering her body pliant as Tara's voice soothed away the tension cramping her muscles. She rested her head against Tara's strong shoulder, sighing softly again when the vampire turned her head and full lips grazed Pam's temple, lingering long enough for her cool breath to ruffle the loose strands of wavy flaxen hair.

"_Don't say a word, just dance with me,"_ Tara continued, her voice like honey, thick and sweet. She twirled them languidly around that spot of lamppost light, alternating between humming a few bars and crooning softly in Pam's ear.

"_Let the world outside disappear. For what we got here is all we need." _ Tara dropped another kiss, this time to a plane of soft smooth cheek.

"D_ance with me_."

Tara guided Pam through the slow dance, her movements unhurried, gentle and unapologetically tender. Around them, the fog seemed to create a cylindrical wall as it curled around the pair, offering them the illusion of privacy.

"_Darling, here we are, together all alone," _Tara whispered, her voice barely reaching Pam's ears before the night air snatched them away. She whispered a kiss to the top of Pam's head, inhaled her sweet scent then danced them directly under the golden-yellow glow of the lamppost.

"_We finally found a moment, we can call our own."_

Tara deposited one last kiss, this time to Pam's forehead. She let her lips linger, let the scent of honeysuckle, lavender and vanilla fused into her skin.

"_So dance with me. Just dance with me."_

Humming the last few bars, Tara slowed their steps until they were simply swaying on the spot. The arm Tara had curled around Pam's waist unwound to reach up to guide the blonde' head off her shoulders. Cupping a warm cheek, Tara leaned in and brushed a soft, careful kiss to crimson painted lips, conveying with that one act, how much she cherished the woman she currently held in her arms.

"Talk to me," Tara whispered against full lips. "Tell me what hurts you so."

Pam shivered as the vampire's cool breath caressed her mouth, Tara scent slipping like a thief in the night between the seams of her lips only to claim possession over her senses. She leaned forward, lips pining for another kiss and was rewarded when Tara applied gentle pressure, lingering a few seconds longer before once again pulling back.

The vampire brushed wisps of corn silk hair off Pam's forehead then ran the back of her knuckles down a pale cheek. "Share with me your burdens, Pamela," Tara beseeched, her voice soft. "There is no need for you to bear it in solitude. Not anymore."

When Tara palmed her cheek, Pam leaned in, seeking comfort, seeking a soothing touch. A barely audible sigh whispered past her lips when Tara stroked at the soft, warm skin she found beneath her fingers.

"Today marks the day of my arrival to San Francisco," Pam revealed, her voice plangorous, her blue-gray eyes stormy with equal measures of pain and sorrow. "Five years ago."

Tara nodded, needing no further explanation.

"Close your eyes," was what she said instead.

When Pam's blonde brow began a slow hike up to her hairline, Tara shook her head in amused exasperation.

"Put a leash on those willful yearnings, Princess," she chided softly, dark pink lips pulling into a besotted smile when Pam completed the dramatic arch of her eyebrow anyway.

"Close your eyes," Tara repeated sweetly, quietly, as she caressed Pam's cheek, her fingers expertly melting Pam's partially defiant expression into one of sweet contentment between one caress and the next.

"Close your eyes and think of me."

A sweet smile chased itself across Pam's lips as the blonde gave in and did as requested.

Using the hand she kept purchase on Pam's cheek, Tara began a tactile memorization of Pam's face. She started with the angular planes of a smooth cheek, her thumb running up over the delicate jut of a beautifully sculpted cheekbone. Limber fingers followed, aching gentleness in every move as they walked over a fluttering eyelid to trace the arch of a blonde eyebrow. One lone finger then ran down the aristocratic slope of a snow-kissed nose before falling off to the side, a midnight-dipped thumb stretching over to caress another delicately molded cheekbone.

The vampire ended her tactile journey by thumbing a full bottom lip, memorizing and committing to memory, the feminine curvature of that soft, sweet, succulent flesh.

"How you burn me," Tara confessed, her voice hoarse with emotion as she returned to simply cupping Pam's cheek.

When pale lids lifted, it revealed eyes so iridescent a blue that Tara trembled, her energy humming into the air like the distant sound of fluttering wings.

She pressed forward, drawn in by the magnificent blue of Pam's eyes and brushed her lips fleetingly against pouting crimson ones.

Electricity crackled in the air at the intimate contact, stinging their skin and leaving both sets of full lips tingling in a manner that was somewhat disconcerting but nonetheless pleasant.

"Your beauty is an eternal flame," Tara whispered, her inflection bordering the edge of pain as she spoke against Pam's mouth, dark eyes never leaving glaucous shades of fluid blue. "Ever bright, ever burning. And I find myself yearning for you, wanting you, _craving_ you, even as your beauty reduces my soul to ashes and my heart to dust."

"You speak as though my presence afflicts you," Pam said, her voice husky, her eyes suspiciously shiny with moisture. It caught the light from the lamppost, causing these unshed tears to glitter like stars.

"But what sweet a pain it is," Tara returned, her voice taking on a faraway quality, as though she were in the clutches of a fading dream. She let the feeling linger, let it loosen her limbs.

Then, she smiled, pulling back slightly so that she could fully see Pam's face. "Have I successfully chased away the stickier tendrils that make up the cobweb of your sorrows?"

Pam leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss to a smooth, dark cheek. "For now, yes," she whispered against cool flesh. "Thank you."

When Pam sought to press another kiss to midnight-painted skin, Tara turned her head so that the blonde's lips met hers instead. She smiled into the kiss when she felt Pam quiver and pressed down on the soft, sweet flesh, relishing the gentle puffs of warm air against her mouth and the way Pam's scent washed over her senses like the most soothing of waves.

"Time is passing us by, Princess," Tara murmured moments later, her voice drowsy with satisfaction. "It's time I get you home."

Pecking full crimson lips one last time, Tara turned and reached for her walking stick. She wrapped agile fingers around the knobby handle of faux ivory then held out an arm.

Pam curled supple fingers of snow around the crook of Tara's elbow, reached up to readjust the top hat sitting rather crookedly on the vampire's head then smiled.

"Take me home, Tara," the blonde whispered.

Tara smiled and proceeded to guide them down the fog-drenched street of spilled moonlight and distorted auric halos.

xxxxxxxx

Visibility was proving to be a scarce commodity by the time Tara dropped Pam off at her doorstep.

Fog from the sea flitted inland in maddening droves, meandering over San Francisco's prominent hills and obscuring houses until they were nothing more than misshapen, shadowy outlines against the puffs of silvery-gray whorls.

Tara batted at a bank of fog that dangled stubbornly in front of her, exasperation coloring the immortal features of her face as her flailing hand only served to stretch and merge that knot of fog with the neighboring ones.

"Odious weather," the vampire muttered, sounding less than pleased as she assisted Pam up the steps.

Pam chortled, rather amused at Tara's outward display of vexation. She reached out and lightly touched the pads of her finger to a dark cheek, immediately garnering the vampire's attention.

"Thank you for escorting me home."

Tara beamed at her, the gesture immediately melting away the annoyance the fog had previously painted across her face. She plucked the hand that was still nestled in the crook of her elbow and brought it up to her lips.

"Thank _you_," she returned, pressing a kiss to the back of Pam's hand. "For giving me such a privilege."

Still cradling her blonde companion's hand, Tara turned her attention to the pale pink door, dark eyes immediately wandering straight to the spot she had blooded.

Though the bloodstain had faded, seeping into the painted wood as Tara knew it eventually would, she could clearly still smell her scent against the sharper tang of paint. It seemed to vibrate through the air, carving itself a small pocket of territory in front of the door, as if it wanted to establish its rightful place on that small sliver of painted wood.

Unable to resist, the vampire pressed a hand to it, feeling acutely the barrier that prevented all uninvited vampires from entering, nudging petulantly against the pressure of her hand from behind the closed door.

It was an odd feeling, akin to putting one's hand through a viscous liquid, a liquid that hummed like a hive of bees and pushed back as though it were a live entity all on its own.

Tara let her hand fall away.

Turning, she returned dark eyes to cobalt ones, well aware that Pam had born witness to her actions.

Dusky eyes, speckled with the barest hints of cocoa dust, locked onto pure, flawless pools of vivid sapphire and for a long, quiet moment both women simply gazed at each other, hiding nothing but not revealing all.

Tara was the one to who eventually broke the powerful connection of their eyes, dark lids hooding slightly as she attempted to school the expression on her face into a more placid one.

"I had better go," she told Pam, her voice soft, fringed with the barest hints of reluctance. "I bid you a good night."

Bringing their still entwined hands up to her lips, Tara ghosted one more kiss to pale knuckles then released Pam's hand. She regarded the blonde, soaked in her wintry beauty then graced her with a fond, affectionate smile.

"Will you dream of me?" she asked the blonde, her tone quietly hopeful, her eyes only twinkling with slight cheekiness.

The corner of Pam's lips quirked at the request; it was as though she were fighting against a full-fledged smile, one that petulantly pulled at full crimson lips, desperate for compliance.

It took a few seconds but eventually, the smile won, pulling lush, succulent lips into a full, genuine upward curve as Pam's eyes twinkled somewhat bashfully at Tara.

"I have dreamed of nothing and no one else since I met you," she confessed in a hushed tone, cheeks heating slightly at the admission.

Tara grinned, leaned forward and dropped a kiss to a slightly heated cheek. "Then, I eagerly await our reunion in the landscape of your dreams," she husked into a nearby ear.

Pressing a light kiss to a pale earlobe, she murmured, "It does me good to know that I haunt your dreams with as much zeal as you haunt mine."

She grazed another kiss to the line of Pam's jaw then pulled back. Tipping her hat at Pam, she bowed deeply at the waist. "Goodnight, Pamela."

Pam watched as Tara descended the three steps, fluid grace in every amble.

Though by now, she was used to the sudden and sharp pang of loss that reverberated against her chest whenever they parted ways at the end of the night, Pam was quite unprepared for the trill of anxiety that sang a sudden deep and mournful note through her veins.

Perturbed and confused, she did what now came naturally to her.

She called out to Tara.

And Tara turned, one foot hovering over the last step in animated suspension for a scant second before it dropped back onto the second step. The vampire pivoted, dark eyes questioning and holding just a hint of worry as it wandered back up to eyes of winter-blue.

When that dark, intense stare settled on her face, Pam hesitated. Why, she wasn't quite sure but unbalanced by the odd emotions pinging through her, she steeled her nerves and asked, "Would you like..."

The blonde failed to finish her hasty and poorly crafted sentence when Tara suddenly and unexpected blurred forward, the vampire's sudden close proximity stealing the breath from her lungs and stirring the few loose tendrils of flaxen hair that framed her face.

Pam quivered slightly, her body imitating that of a plucked string when a lone finger of pure midnight pressed against the pillow-y softness of her crimson painted lips, the coolness of Tara's skin contrasting with the warmth of her own.

"Don't," Tara breathed out, her voice holding a note of caution.

Her eyes bore into Pam's, twin wells of darkness that seemed to spear right into the depths of Pam's soul.

The unrepentant strength of Tara's stare made Pam gulp and despite herself, she couldn't not react to the shiver of trepidation that scuttled down her spine.

"Don't," Tara repeated, her voice raspy, hoarse almost as Pam's intoxicating bouquet began a slow seductive caress around her senses, slowly but surely clouding her ability to think. "Don't say the words unless you truly mean it, Pamela."

The wind seemed to agree with Tara as it howled gently, stirring the fog around them until the silvery-gray fingers writhed about in the air like a nest of snakes caught in the throes of agony.

When Pam remained frozen and mute from the closeness of Tara's body, her lips tingling from the light pressure of that one lone midnight-hued finger, the vampire smiled.

It was that low, slow, burning smile that Pam only ever saw when they were alone.

The blonde kissed the finger resting against her lips, completely unable to resist. "How can you be sure I'm not ready?" she husked against that lone digit.

Tara dropped her hand, Pam's warm breath against her cool flesh addling her brain. "You hesitated, Princess," she informed her, her voice soft but not holding the inflection of a grudge. "You hesitated and it curled into the air like smoke."

When Pam opened her mouth to protest, Tara returned that one lone finger to crimson lips. "I take no offence to your wanting your privacy, Pamela. Your home is your sanctuary and so it should be." She traced the feminine line of Pam's lip; let the pad of her finger linger at the corner of the blonde's mouth. "Don't cast me as the one to storm the sanctity of your haven uninvited, Pamela. I couldn't bear it."

Dark pink lips replaced the finger pressing lightly against Pam's mouth then, both parties sighing at the sweetly intimate contact of full lips against full lips.

"You'll invite me in when and only when you are ready," Tara murmured against Pam's mouth before stealing another lingering kiss.

"Only when you're ready," she reiterated when she pulled back.

Pam nodded, a little lightheaded and more than a little breathless by her dark savior's kiss. She licked at her lips, tasting on it the residual flavors of musk, cloves and sandalwood.

"I'll say goodnight then," she announced softly.

Tara smiled. "Good night, Princess." She leaned in one last time and pressed her lips to Pam's warm, soft cheek.

"Dream of me."

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Chapter title and song used is Adam Brand's _Dance With Me_. The song is on YouTube if you want to take a listen.


	12. She Comes To Call

**A/N** – Thanks to all those who took the time to leave a review after they read the previous chapter. I've said it before and I'll say it again: y'all have some _fascinating_ trains of thought and it's a privilege reading each and every one. Now, without further ado, here is the next chapter for your amusement. Happy reading and I hope you have a good weekend.

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**Chapter 12 – She Comes to Call**

Pam stepped across the threshold of her front door only to be confronted with a sight that promptly stole the breath from her lungs.

As if sensing the moment's need for dramatics, the bank of fog that had been bobbing almost lazily over the blonde's front steps began a slow parting, curling back like a set of phantom theatre curtains to reveal the vision that had so easily taken prisoner, Pam's undivided attention.

Tara.

The vampire was dressed curiously in a forest green long sleeved tunic that laced at the throat. Encircling her waist was a brass-buckled black belt and the hems of her tunic whispered over snug black riding breeches that contoured beautifully to the sculpted muscles of the vampire's powerful thighs. Dark brown boots that ran up over Tara's knees completed the decidedly medieval outfit and the vampire's atrous and ocean tinted hair blew gently in the wind, undulating like rivulets of black water that somehow became suspended in the air.

She was breathtaking.

And that was putting it mildly.

Pam continued to gape, bewildered, stunned and almost embarrassingly aroused as wide blue eyes travelled down to the next component that made up the beguiling picture that was her dark savior:

Tara astride a horse.

And not just any horse.

The vampire was perched on the back of one of the largest stallions Pam had ever set her eyes upon.

The magnificent beast boasted a coat so black it seemed to have been painted with the same brush used to construct the nighttime sky. Only its head bore color; a brilliant actinoid flare of lightning-white that had been emblazoned on its forehead.

It reminded Pam of a shooting star, one that had somehow fallen from grace and had instead, found purchase on this beast of midnight and darkness.

As if sensing the blonde's scrutiny, the beast snorted, great plumes of condensation billowing from its nostrils as it pawed restlessly at the ground with a massive hoof. When Tara reached out with a soothing hand to gently caress its shoulder, it threw its head from side to side, disturbing a long, wild mane that cascaded down its neck like a waterfall of black silk.

Pam gawked, words nonexistent in her throat, her tongue having been robbed from her mouth.

Tara straightened and returning her attention to the dumbstruck blonde, bestowing upon Pam, that slow, burning smile that conveyed an almost quiescent heat and languor.

"Good evening, Pamela."

Pam choked out something that barely resembled Tara's name.

Tara's smile grew a little wicked at the sight of a flustered Pam. She kept silent, giving the blonde time to compose herself but indulged in the attention Pam was affording her, fueling it by sitting a little straighter and tossing over her shoulder, ink-dipped hair in what was a poor attempt at nonchalance.

"G-good evening," Pam finally managed to return, her voice emerging muddled between her American cadence and her English lilt and altogether far too raspy for public use.

Tara's eyes darkened at that raspy cadence and she shifted slightly on the saddle as intimate parts of her helplessly reacted to _that_ particular tone of voice.

"Pray, have you come to render me into insensibility with your alluring presence or to escort me to work?" Pam questioned once her brain cells had ceased scrambling around in her skull like a coop of headless, frantic chickens. And whilst her tone was arch, her eyes betrayed her by roaming almost greedily over the enrapturing sight that was Tara on a horse.

Tara shuddered – the act mercifully too subtle for Pam's human eyes – as those azure orbs, now electric with heat and want, whispered over her sinewy frame like a lover's caress.

"Neither," she managed to get out, her own Southern twang lathered in a husky resonance that made her voice sound two octaves deeper. She graced the blonde with a sensuous smile, one that sent fingers of heat licking at Pam's nerves. "Though the former did cross my mind," she added cheekily.

Pam scowled but it was an exercise in futility for when Tara bestowed upon her another smile made up of nothing but heat and desire, her legs quivered and a very feminine part of ached.

Fiercely.

"Why are you here then?"

Pam was almost embarrassed at the hoarse rasp that was her own voice, so much so that she blushed, earning her that cocky half-smirk, half-smile from the vampire.

"I think you might be pleased to find that tonight, you have been absolved from your...duties," Tara announced, looking mighty pleased with herself.

It was a look that bordered on smugness but it was also a look that was sadly short-lived. A sober mask slapped itself against the immortal features of her face when dark eyes encountered Pam's reaction to her words.

Any trace of playfulness and arousal instantly dissolved in Pam's gaze in wake of the vampire's reply. Confusion replaced these lighter emotions, fringed with an incipient vexation that nudged at the corners of her eyes, beginning a slow by sure transformation of sapphire to a stormy, navy blue.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Patience. Pam would try for patience until she was in possession of all the facts.

Tara bit back a wince at the utter calm that now coated Pam's tone. The vampire had an inkling that the evening may not get off on an easy foot but it proved too late to make amendments.

"I beg your forgiveness for accosting you thus," she began in what she hoped was a properly contrite tone. "But I had to see you."

"You see me every night," Pam refuted, her tone even though the air around her was beginning to smoke slightly with the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular display of indignant pique.

Tara heaved a sigh, one that sounded ponderous as it emerged from full lips chained with resignation and desperation. Resignation that an impending argument was going to insert its large foot into their now painfully polite conversation and desperation at wanting to avoid such conflict.

"I took the liberty of making plans," the vampire revealed, her tone quiet. "For us."

"Do you mean to tell me that you _deliberately_ engineered a timetable of my evening's activities without first consulting me?"

Pam's tone was sharper now, fortified by steel and simmering in a pool of weak but strengthening acid.

Tara bit back another wince.

"Yes," she affirmed anyway, Pam's flashing blue eyes daring her to deny the accusation.

Pam glowered, wholly unimpressed with Tara at the moment. "And what may I ask, happens to my business as you and I go gallivanting off to heavens only knows where?"

This was not going according to plan. In fact, it was all but falling about Tara's ears.

The vampire changed tactics, ducking Pam's question and trying for charm instead, hoping to dispel some of that blue fire she could see flickering ominously in the blonde's eyes.

"Before I went to ground I was _stung by the splendor of a sudden thought_," Tara disclosed around a deliberately winsome smile.

"Quoting literary figures will not grant you favor into my good graces, Ms. Thornton," Pam snapped, her temper hanging on by mere tattered threads. She glared at Tara, her expression frosty.

Tara sighed again, her forcefully cheerful façade disintegrating, much like the shredded veil of fog that ballooned in and out of form between her and Pam.

The vampire vaulted off the horse's back in a fluid and graceful maneuver that only an immortal could afford to execute. She landed cat-like on her feet, her boots unerringly silent as they found purchase on the uneven cobblestones.

"Must you always be so quick to temper?" Tara asked, her voice quiet as she took a few tentative steps forward, only to stop scant inches from the bottom step. She peered up at Pam, her expression apologetic if a little wounded.

"You are avoiding the question," Pam pointed out, deliberately averting her gaze from Tara's dark ones. She knew that once she let herself fall into those pools of midnight, her temper would flee and her feet would walk themselves unbidden down the steps straight into the vampire's waiting arms.

And that simply would not do. Not when her pride was currently sporting a bruise and control had been snatched from her hands.

Tara's penitent eyes began a crystallization into a strop of her own at the blatant censure in Pam's voice. Inhaling an unnecessary but much needed breath to center her slowly bubbling ire, she replied, "I had a day runner track down Mrs. Mackenzie to make the necessitous arrangements."

Dark eyes wandered up the steps, seeking for its counterpart of cobalt blue but Pam was deliberately avoiding her silent plea for visual contact, choosing instead, to contemplate the fog curling lightly around her.

"Rest assured, your establishment is in good hands," Tara continued, her voice soft. "And Mrs. Mackenzie has been generously compensated for her troubles."

"I'm sure."

The comment came out biting, barbed with a trace of bitterness and Tara knew she had just inadvertently landed herself in hot water.

While not overly frugal, neither was the blonde a profligate individual. Her currently social standing, or rather lack thereof, did not allow for such freedom and given the blunt nature of her job, the blonde had come to resent currency being exchanged for anything to do with her autonomy.

Even if it was done in her favor.

A full bottom lip tucked itself between two sets of blunt teeth and Tara worried at the plump flesh as she sought for an apology worthy enough to vocalize.

Pam's next scathing and intentionally injurious query however, replaced remorse and guilt with a cauldron boiling over with hot, jealous rage.

"And what of MY clients this evening?"

Blue eyes made a reappearance, zeroing onto dark eyes that had suddenly marmarized into cold pools of pitch.

Pam's own eyes went mercurial in response, darkening from a deep sapphire to a stormy blue so volatile that it sometimes appeared almost navy shot through with steel-gray. She let the weight of her stare settle on Tara, dared her to retaliate.

The vampire reacted by clenching her teeth so tightly that her gums ached and her jaw protested. Power screamed through the air, cracking like the end of a whip as Tara struggled against her beast. She ran an agitated hand through her hair, ruffling her midnight locks to a right state of disarray as she attempted to use the act as a vehicle to eclipse the hot sting of jealously and fury that gnawed at her nerves.

"I'm sure one of your girls will attend to your...client's needs just as adequately as you would," Tara managed to grit out, her voice one decibel shy of a growl. The vampire clenched a hand, blunt nails digging so hard into the vulnerable flesh of her palm that it broke skin and the sudden coppery tang of blood spiced the air.

Tara relented the pressure immediately, feeling those half-moon wounds close as quickly as they were inflicted.

It was just a shame that the lacerations Pam's words were scoring into her heart failed to heal just as fast.

And Tara knew, knew that until Pam was ready to close of this chapter of her life, those wounds afflicted onto the unbeating muscle in her chest would continue to weep crimson.

"That is completely beside the point, Tara!" Stormy eyes were iridescent with anger, Pam's aristocratic features rearranged to allow her vexation to manifest. "I may be a madam but I have a selective clientele for a reason and I..."

"I really do not care for the intimate reveal of your transactions with your _selective_ clientele, Ms. Beaufort," Tara cut in, her tone brusque and her eyes harsh. "If you've a care for me at all then I thank you kindly to keep such information to yourself."

Pam's following laugh was almost tangibly acrimonious and it made Tara's spine go ramrod stiff.

"What exactly is it you think I do with the men I take to my chambers, Tara?" The blonde's tone was openly mocking now, a sneer curling the corners of her crimson lips. "Engage in conversation? Do you think the men come to call for tea and biscuits? Or a poetry reading perhaps?" Blue eyes flashed fire as they bore into equally tempestuous whirlpools of India ink. "If your ruminations run along this path then you are poisoned by delusion."

Tara snarled at this, her beast slipping from her self-control like water through the cracks of her fingers. She turned her back on Pam, her entire sinewy body a bowstring of tension and quivering as fitfully as a plucked one. She chewed out a curse, vehemence soaking every letter.

Then, her wrath needing an outlet, she began letting loose a litany of curses in a tongue Pam had never heard of. It all but eradicated her stalwart, homey Southern drawl and in its place was a lilt that was rougher, harsher but somehow richer given its oracular origins.

The blonde couldn't help but stare, unduly fascinated at this new and unexpected development. Over the course of their albeit brief courtship, she had never once seen Tara quite lose her temper in such an open and demonstrative manner. They had had their spats, their minor disagreements but Tara was always quick to curb a temper tantrum before it took full control of her tongue.

Now, however, the vampire was practically emitting smoke, the air around her gluey with power, power that slithered up the front steps to grease Pam's lithe frame, causing slight trepidation to trip down her spine.

In front of her, Tara's horse whinnied softly and having sensed the vampire's currently temperamental state, tossed it head in an agitated fashion, as if expressing sympathy. It snorted, pawed at a cobblestone and shifted its weight though it did not move from its designated spot.

Onus crept through Pam's veins at the sight of the normally well-composed vampire marching fumingly back and forth, what sounded like heated expletives streaming out of her mouth in torrents. As usual, the blonde knew it was her who had blown things out of proportion, her quick to fire temper coupled with an almost impossible ability to curb her tongue rendering what started off as a pleasant evening to tense tatters.

She sighed and brushed wisps of corn-silk hair off her forehead, the playful wind having pulled a few strands loose from the single braid that ran down the back of her head and over her shoulder.

"Tara…"

The vampire turned immediately at the sound of Pam's voice, acrimony mercifully absent from those turbulent dark eyes. However, a wariness and hurt swirled in those hypnotizing midnight depths, laced with just the barest hints of a cool distance that had never once been present in Tara's eyes whenever she was with Pam.

Not until now.

Pam took a step forward until she was hesitating on the lip of the top step.

"Tara..."

"I know _exactly_ what it is you do when you disappear upstairs, Pamela," Tara interrupted. Her tone was heavy and it seemed to manifest physically because Tara's shoulders drooped, her expression scrunching as though she were experiencing discomfort.

Midnight orbs remained latched onto tentative pools of winter-blue however and Tara used the connection of the eyes to hold Pam's attention.

"I know and I only wish to take you away from such degradation for a night." Pain suddenly filled those night sky eyes. Pain and a deep need to protect.

But it was a protection that would not currently be received with open arms.

"Would you continue to find fault with me for wanting to gift you instead, with an evening filled with a wholesome meal and some quiet conversation?" Tara finished, her voice now almost painfully subdued.

To that, Pam could not formulate a response.

But desperate to rekindle the easiness and warmth that seemed to easily generated between her and Tara, Pam extended the only olive branch in sight.

"What have you named him?"

The abrupt change in topic had a vertiginous effect on Tara's equilibrium and she frowned at the new avenue of conversation, dark browed furrowing and discombobulation painting stark strokes over the immortal features of her face.

"I beg your pardon?" Tara asked, trying and failing to cotton on to Pam's abruptly fluctuating train of thought.

Blue eyes hopped over Tara's shoulder, midnight orbs following as the vampire turned to regard what had been the cause of Pam's change in subject.

"Oh," Tara spoke when she rested a calmer gaze on her stallion. She turned back to Pam, a small smile creeping unbidden onto her lips as she recalled the blonde's fondness for horses. She held out a perfunctory hand, hoping the shift in conversation meant the end of their spat.

"May I introduce you?"

Pam heaved a sigh of relief at Tara's offer. She glided down the steps with a little more zeal than was necessary and in her haste, she tripped on the hem of her skirts, the act propelling her forward...

...and straight into Tara's waiting arms.

"Careful," Tara whispered as she righted the blonde, arms encircling Pam's trim waist in a loose circle.

Now in such close proximity to each other, both parties took the opportunity to let the other's scent wash away any lingering traces of hurt and guilt, though an ember of caution still glowed in Tara's eyes as they swept a visual path down Pam's face.

Pam wanted that ember extinguished.

So she reached up and cupped Tara's cheek, long fingers of snow playing over a defined cheekbone. "I am sorry," she apologized. "My proclivity towards rashness is unfortunately one of my greater character flaws." She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to Tara's lips, her mouth so brief and fleeting that it felt nothing more than a whisper. "I should not have been so quick to judge. Will you accept my apology?"

"Always."

Tara tightened her hold around Pam's waist. Then, she ducked her head, buried it in Pam's neck and nuzzled at the soft skin she found, her senses instinctively rooting about for that unique bouquet of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

And once she found it, she inhaled deeply, the very atoms that made up her physical being instantly gaining drunken status as Tara let Pam's scent infuse into her pores. She sighed, body sagging slightly against the blonde's as she took repeated pulls of Pam's scent.

Pam held Tara firmly to her, enjoying the close intimacy. She was not by nature, a tactile individual, nor was openly affectionate even before her unfortunate choice of occupation. However, Pam was beginning to discover that when it came to Tara, her personal preferences and the safeguards she kept around her heart and emotions were all but becoming obsolete.

The blonde turned and rubbed her cheek against Tara's hair before one hand reached up to lay purchase in that heavy mass of supple silk. She carded careful fingers through the unkempt locks, sifting and parting the silky strands, sapphire eyes awash in awe as she picked out the mysterious blue and green highlights shimmering amongst a sea of midnight ink.

Crimson painted lips quirked when she felt more than heard the vampire emit a low purr. It was a sound that made Tara's chest vibrate, the reverberations rippling from the vampire into Pam given the way they their bodies were flush against each other.

Pam lightly massaged Tara's scalp as the vampire continued to nose at her neck, her purrs growing steadily deeper, more continuous. The blonde had quickly discovered that this was an act that comforted Tara, soothed her. Why, she wasn't exactly sure but if it brought some measure of peace to her dark savior, then who was she to deny such a request?

It had its rewards her as well though, Pam mused as Tara shifted, burrowing further into the blonde's arms, her nose grazing the hollow behind her ear. Being able to hold Tara like this was a privilege; the vampire's intoxicating scent of musk, cloves and sandalwood teasing her senses into a hypnotic dance until it was all she could do to remain upright and composed.

She shuddered when Tara pressed a kiss to her erratically beating pulse, full lips lingering before pulling back, the vampire's eyes now dewy with tenderness and bright with contentment.

"Come and meet my steed," the vampire offered Pam as she stepped back and took the blonde's hand, using the connection of their linked fingers to tug rather childishly at Pam's arm.

The blonde chuckled and allowed herself to be dragged forward. Tara steered her towards the front of the impressively patient stallion and repositioned herself so that she was standing behind and slightly off to Pam's left.

"This is Cimmerian," Tara introduced, pride and joy ringing cheerfully in her voice.

The name suited, paying homage to the magnificent stallion's coat that has been kissed by the night and fortified by shadows.

The horse snorted in response to its name and shook its great head, sending its uncut mane of black silk to whip through the air and fall over its forehead.

"Hello, handsome," Pam murmured as she stepped forward, one arm already unfurling.

Cimmerian met her halfway by nudging his muzzle into the Pam's suspended palm. He butted at her hand, neighing softly and Pam's light laughter trilled through the fog decorated air before she obliged, moving up to brush away a strand of its mane from his eyes before she rubbed gently at the soft skin on his nose.

"He likes you."

"But of course," Pam tossed back immediately, a sly, cheeky smile tugging at the corner of her lips though she kept it concealed by keeping her back to the vampire. "Shame on you for doubting my prowess with temperamental beasts."

Tara blurred forward at this, her sudden presence garnering a slight gasp from Pam as a cool body pressed up against her own warm frame.

"Temperamental?" the vampire practically purred into a pale ear, smirking when Pam visibly shivered. She purposely grazed her lips against the shell of the blonde's ear, her cool breath washing over soft, snow-kissed skin as her arms snaked around Pam's waist, pulling her firmly against her front.

Pam sank back into those strong arms, the act seemingly unconscious. She moaned slightly when Tara began trailing lingering butterfly kisses down the side of her neck, her lips undeniably cool but leaving a trail of wildfire that branded Pam's skin like a red-hot poker.

"I'm afraid your moods prove far more mercurial than mine, Princess," Tara murmured around soft kiss. "But as it has been ordained by the gods, you are entitled to your bursts of histrionics."

Pam huffed, slightly indignant at being so bluntly accused of such outward displays of hysteria. She turned in the circle of Tara's arms and regarded the vampire.

"Since you have so blatantly pointed out my right to exercise my emotions, I'll remind you now that I am still mad at you."

Tara grinned, a soft look crossing her face. She pecked Pam on the cheek then let go. "Alright," she conceded. "But be mad at me in my presence." Her gaze sobered slightly as a stray thought wandered unbidden into her mind. "Unless you are still insistent on going to work." She peered into blue eyes, searching for a sliver of doubt. "Are you? I shall respect your wishes if you should feel so strongly about the matter."

Pam returned Tara's steady gaze, noted the apology in those dark eyes, the staunch determination to keep to her word.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to go to work," she finally uttered. "But, Tara?" She waited until she had the vampire's full and undivided attention before continuing. "I would appreciate an earlier notice in the future."

Tara nodded, looking chastened. "Duly noted." She kissed Pam in apology then pulled back. "Shall we?"

Pam nodded but then frowned down at her simple black trumpet skirt, high collared cream pouter pigeon blouse and tweed jacket. "Should I be furnished with an attire more suited to traveling?"

"I think you look divine," came the dreamy reply.

Pam snorted. "That was decidedly unhelpful, Ms. Thornton."

Tara grinned and unwrapped her arms from around Pam. She kissed away the jutting lip Pam deliberately pushed out at the loss of contact then made her way to the back of the horse where a saddle bag was housed.

The vampire lifted the worn leather flap, stuck a hand inside and came out with a carefully rolled up bundle. She unfolded it, revealing a traveling cloak with steel clasps that closed at the throat of the wearer.

"I had this made for you," Tara revealed, her voice quiet. "I thought tonight an opportune moment to gift you with it."

Pam fingered the fine fabric, practiced fingers noting it to be cashmere, so soft it was under her touch. "It's stunning," she sighed.

The cloak was that and then some. Dyed an intriguing shade of blue that seemed to lighten when bathed in light and darken when shrouded in shadows, the cloak easily mirrored the mercurial nature that was Pam's own eyes.

"Yes," Tara noted. "You are."

"I meant the cloak," Pam drawled, slanting an affectionately exasperated gaze at her companion.

"I know what you meant," the vampire grinned. She reached out and touched the gold threads that were sown into intricate Celtic swirls that ran across the hems of the cloak.

"These are interlocking symbols for protection," Tara explained, her voice adopting a distant inflection as she following the path of one particular knot. "They were constructed by the Celtic druids and are meant to keep its charges form harm."

Pam felt her eyes sting at Tara's deep reasoning for her gift. "Thank you, Tara," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Tara merely smiled and reached up to gently caress a warm, snow-kissed cheek.

"Would you mind offering me your assistance?" Pam gestured towards the cloak then smiled shyly when Tara simply threw it across her shoulders with a practiced flick of her wrist. The vampire linked the clasps then adjusted the cloak so that it fit snugly around Pam's lithe frame.

"Thank you."

"You are quite welcome," Tara returned. She caressed Pam's cheek again then shot her an impish grin as she took a purposeful step back.

Before Pam knew what was happening, Tara had _somersaulted_ into the air and onto the saddle, earning her an unimpressed snort from Cimmerian who did not appreciate the abrupt and unexpected weight on his back, however slight.

The vampire grinned at Pam's stunned expression and held out a hand. "M'lady," she addressed, her voice oozing with charm. "May I have the honor of your company tonight?"

Pam rolled her eyes but took the proffered hand, using to steady herself as Tara assisted her onto the horse.

"You don't have to sit sidesaddle," Tara observed as Pam settled herself, rearranging her skirts so that it would not become tangled in the stirrups.

A pointed look elicited an amused chuckle from Tara. She plucked the pale hand that had wound itself around her waist and brought up to her lips for a kiss before returning it to its previous position.

"Where are we going?" Pam inquired. She pulled a hand away from Tara's waist to brush aside strands of clove-scented hair before resting her chin against Tara's strong shoulder. The same hand then snaked back around Tara, long fingers of alabaster absentmindedly traced the architecture that was the vampire's abdominal muscles. They were prominent even through her thick tunic and Pam found herself enthralled by the ebb and flow of such beautifully sculpted muscle beneath her fingertips.

Tara flicked the reins, coaxing Cimmerian into a light trot.

"It's a surprise," she responded, voice dropping to a sultry register as the fingers that belonged to the hand splayed across her stomach wracked havoc with her senses.

"I thought we've established that I have no particular fondness for surprises," Pam breathed into a midnight-hued ear, smirking when she elicited a shiver.

Tara's grip tightened on the reins, a futile attempt to control her baser desires. With Pam pressed intimately up against her back and her warm breath stroking intermittent caresses over her ear, the vampire was hard pressed to focus on anything else.

"You'll like this surprise," she murmured, her voice almost contralto as Pam brushed a kiss to the hollow behind her ear. She then growled when Pam nipped at her earlobe. "Stop distracting me, I beg you."

"No," Pam murmured as she pressed another heated kiss to the side of Tara's neck. "You've accosted me quite without my permission this evening so you should now take your comeuppance on the chin." Another kiss to dark flesh, this time with a hint of teeth and tongue, coaxed a wanton moan from Tara who shifted in the saddle in order to quell an ache that flared with vengeance from between her legs.

"You are the devil in disguise," Tara groaned as she flicked the reins, urging Cimmerian into a faster gait.

Another teasing kiss to the side of her jaw was Pam's only response.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Tara's quote is from Robert Browning's _Indian Tales_.


	13. The Architecture Of Her Soul

**A/N** – Apologies for the rather late update. I was in a groove during the weekend, making this all mushy and romantic….then the season opener happened and my brain pretty much exploded inside of my head. Soo...a little less romance, a little more angst but hey, the Victorian/Edwardian era was all about the theatrics. Thanks for all those who left me delicious reviews in the last chapter. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 13 – The Architecture Of Her Soul**

The steady percussion of hoof beats tapered off in favor of erratic staccatos punctuated with crunching gravel as Tara slowed the stallion to a stop, Pam slumbering languidly against her.

Sometime during the procession of their journey, the blonde had begun to succumb to the caress of Orpheus' touch, her body languishing against Tara's back, her arms around Tara's waist slackening.

Tara had simply reversed their positions, calling forth the preternatural speed afforded to her as a vampire in order to shift so that she was newly situated behind a nodding off Pam. She had gathered the blonde close, one hand descending with aching gentleness on a blonde head, guiding it to rest against her shoulder, Pam instinctively burrowing her lithe frame into Tara's chest.

All of this was executed without once interrupting Cimmerian's steady perambulation.

Now, having arrived at their yet unnamed destination, Tara found that she was in no particular hurry to untangle Pam from her web of dreams, choosing instead to take the opportunity to study the drowsing bundle in her arms.

Lost in a world of slumber, Pam's expression was mesmerizingly angelic; the aristocratic features of her face mercifully devoid of its usual caginess and guarded expression.

Tara regarded Pam with a soft look, heart clenching with equal parts fierce love and wistfulness. What would it be like, she wondered, to drowse between the warm sheets of an expansive bed painted with candle glow and shadows and simply soak up the sight of Pam sailing away in a dreamscape made up of magic and thoughts?

She gathered it would be a captivating moment, something she would not soon forget.

Dark eyes caressed Pam's face, twin orbs of midnight soft with affection as they observed full lips that were slightly parted, allowing gentle plumes of condensation to release itself into the air. Closed lids fluttered intermittently, the blue eyes concealed beneath no doubt reacting to a hopefully pleasant dream that was keeping Pam asunder in Orpheus' realm.

It was rare, to see Pam looking so peaceful, to see her unburdened with the weight of sorrow and bitterness that acted as a slow but sure crushing weight, a weight that dimmed the light in those enrapturing eyes of sapphire and fortified the walls of steel Pam erected around her heart.

Despite the troubles that hounded Pam during her waking hours however, Tara was mollified to note that sleep brought her a measure of peace, however slight and temporary.

It was this very acknowledgement that made the vampire loath to wake her sleeping companion but when she felt the blonde shiver slightly beneath the travel cloak Tara had taken to swaddling carefully around her, the vampire knew it was time to relocate to warmer quarters.

She reached up, fingers abeyant as they hesitated, hovered before they alighted on Pam's cheek, her touch unfailingly tender. Blood-tears smarted the corners of her eyes when Pam leaned in to her touch, the act seemingly having no vehicle of cognizance.

A barely discernible sigh followed, flitting out of those beautifully lush lips and Pam snuggled further into the beautifully sculpted body that held her with unerring care.

"Pamela." The vampire's voice was soft, hushed, adding to the quiet ambience of the moment. Ink-soaked eyes never left their quarry as Tara ran her knuckles reverently down a wind-cooled cheek, marveling at the softness she found.

"Princess," she cooed almost, her Southern drawl dulcet with affection when Pam began to stir slightly, a frown marring the skin between her eyes as Tara coaxed her slowly from the rocking arms of sleep back into her own.

Pam muttered something unintelligible in response and burrowed further into Tara, the act melting the vampire's unbeating heart. Evidently, the blonde was not easy to rouse and for reasons unknown, the vampire found this new nugget of information completely delightful.

"Come back to me," Tara whispered. She bent and brushed a kiss to the top of Pam's head, inhaling that unique bouquet of lavender and honeysuckle. That one lone, melancholic strand of vanilla snaked torpidly around her senses between one inhale and the next, causing Tara to sigh in utter contentment as she reacquainted herself with the blonde's powerfully feminine scent.

"Come back," she repeated, murmuring her request into sweet-smelling hair, nuzzling her nose into the silky strands.

Pam smacked her lips, brows knitting as Tara's low alto slithered into her subconscious, cutting away at the tendrils of sleep that thought to keep her suspended in the land of dreams. She shifted slightly in the cool circle of strong arms that were deceptively gentle as they cradled her lovingly, her nose nuzzling at the soft skin it found, drawing from it, whispers of musk, cloves and sandalwood.

"Tara…"

Pam's voice was drowsy with sleep, rather husky from disuse and Tara found that she was hard pressed not to allow certain feminine parts of her to weep from such an unintentionally arousing sound.

"That's it," she crooned instead, dropping a series of butterfly kisses into Pam's hair. "Good girl. Come back to me."

Pam keened slightly around a yawn that crept up unbidden. It was followed by a discontented mewl as the blonde retreated further into the nook of Tara's neck, her mind still lingering in the realm between sleep and consciousness.

Tara cradled Pam closer to her in response, cherishing the feel of holding a woman such as Pam in her arms. She pressed a kiss to the blonde's temple, let her lips linger long enough to siphon some of Pam's heat into her cool flesh.

The blonde was so soft and so warm and she drowsed against Tara in a manner that one could only achieve through utter trust.

This knowledge both honored and humbled Tara.

"Time to wake up, my beautiful Princess," the vampire murmured when she detected another slight tremor. She caressed Pam's cheek softly, using the act to guide the blonde back to the waking world and chuckled softly when she felt Pam pout into her neck, the blonde's sleepy "no" sounding so child-like that Tara couldn't help but cuddle her closer.

"Yes," she countered, though her voice was gentle. She dropped another kiss to Pam's hair. "Please?" she added, hoping a sincere plea would bolster Pam.

Pam grunted in response, yawning into Tara's neck. She dropped a clumsy kiss to the vampire's collarbone then nuzzled her cheek against the soft fabric of Tara's tunic.

"Come along, Princess," Tara crooned. She ran a soothing hand up Pam's slightly curled back. "Show me those beautiful blue eyes of yours, hmm?"

Pam grunted again, displeasure in the unlady-like sound. However, she did as bade, raising her head slowly as if it weighed more than she could bear to lift it.

Pale lids unfurled, revealing azure blue eyes that were cloudy with sleep. Pam glared blearily at Tara, looking so put out at the present moment that the vampire could not help but laugh lightly.

"You mock me," Pam grumbled, petulance radiating from her pores.

When she made an attempt to lean back into Tara, the vampire stopped her with a soft peck to her lips. "No," she whispered, eyes twinkling. "I simply find this incarnation of you madly adorable."

Pam ran a tired hand over her face, trying in vain to chase away the cobwebs of sleep, her expression still grumpy.

Tara merely smiled at her and caressed her cheek, patiently waiting until the blonde was cognizant enough to vocalize a train of thought.

"Where are we?" the blonde finally asked, stifling a yawn behind a hand.

Tara brushed a strand of corn silk hair that whispered over a pale forehead. "Turn your head," she requested softly. When Pam did as instructed, she continued. "This," she gestured towards the looming estate alit with well-placed gas lamps, "is Thornton Manor."

At this Pam straightened, Tara words successfully eradicating the last of Orpheus' lulling fingers that bespoke of sleep and dreams.

Glaucous blue eyes glowed with newfound alertness as they ran rampant across the sight before her.

Thornton Manor was a capacious residence, sprawling over what looked like several acres. Though distinctly Victorian in style, there were elements of baroque and medieval influences in the stone trims around the windows and doors and steep roof gables. There were even hints of Gothic design in the oriel and pointed windows with decorative tracery along with the battlements that were less for warfare practicality and more for architectural decoration.

"This belongs to you?" Pam inquired, suitably impressed.

"Yes." She smiled at Pam. "I bid you a warm welcome to my home, Pamela."

Bestowing upon Pam a soft kiss to the cheek, Tara then slid off the horse, every movement fluid and graceful. Gravel crunched under her feet as she landed. "Dinner awaits you, Princess," she announced as she reached up, carefully clasped her hands to either side of Pam's hips, lifting her off of the saddle and onto the ground in front of her. "I hope you manifestly famished."

"Might I freshen up first?" Pam inquired, still looking rather somnolent despite the excitement and curiosity that was now coursing gently through her veins at the grand reveal of Tara's place of residence.

"Certainly." Tara reached behind Pam, patted Cimmerian on the rump and with a few worded instructions the stallion snorted before wandering down the gravel path. "Come," she addressed Pam. "Let's get you inside and fed."

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Dinner proved to be a quiet but nonetheless pleasant affair, soured only by the fact that a leggy blonde dressed in the liveries of a footman was at best surly towards Pam and when she thought Tara wasn't looking, glaring at Pam with a look that openly hostile.

"She stares at me with winter in her eyes," Pam murmured as she took a bite of her perfectly cooked roast pork with specialty potatoes, blue eyes peering discreetly if somewhat warily at the unfriendly blonde of almost Amazonian stature. "Might I inquire as to the reason for her inimicalness?"

Tara, who had been watching Pam eat with open fascination, frowned at the blonde's inquiry. "I'm sorry?"

"Your footman, or should I correct that to foot_woman_?" Pam teased lightly as she speared a piece of vegetable aspic from the tray a second footman offered her. "Honestly, Tara, you surround yourself with all manners of subversiveness. It really is quite peculiar."

"Don't mind Simone," Tara dismissed, dark eyes returning to watching how Pam would reach for a piece of cutlery, long fingers of snow boasting an expert ease as its owner navigated what seemed like a legion of eating instruments running outwards from both sides of Pam's plate.

How the blonde knew which spoon or knife or fork to use was a complete mystery to the vampire and Pam further confounded her by barely looking down at the wide array of cutlery before she would accurately choose the correct one.

It was a thing of beauty though, watching Pam work through the silverware. It was clear from the blonde's ease with such refinery that Pam was in her element. This, surrounded by opulence and grandiose, with staff that catered to her every whim, this was Pam's natural environment.

And how she thrived in it.

Dark eyes regarded the elegant movement of Pam's hands, watching with no less than utter enthrallment as pale fingers of alabaster engaged in a dance with the tableware in a manner that was both urbane and sophisticated. Each move of Pam's hand was coordinated and economical as the blonde selected her choice, those long fingers kissed by snow skimming delicately over the array of silver before they dipped and wrapped themselves around its chosen instrument.

Tara never thought she would find an act as mundane as a human handling crockery so utterly transporting.

So lost in her reverie that was her observing Pam that she was startled when her housekeeper, Mrs. Brice, appeared at her elbow with a pewter tankard, its hinged lid closed.

"Here you are, pet. Best to drink it whilst it's warm."

Tara stiffened at this and pushed the tankard away. "No," she almost growled. Her expression softened becoming almost contrite when Mrs. Brice bestowed upon her an unimpressed look at her tone of voice. "I'll feed later," she whispered, dropping her voice so as to not rouse Pam's attention though she could already feel the blonde watching the interaction with curious eyes.

Mrs. Brice huffed, her willowy frame towering over Tara as she sent an arm akimbo. "Surely by now you have divulged the true nature of your character to your fair companion over there."

"That does not mean I wish to traumatize her with it," Tara practically hissed. She then turned a pleading expression on her housekeeper. "Please, take it away." The faint scent of fresh blood, curling out from the lip of the tankard made the vampire within her howl and her gums flared with pain, her fangs threatened to make an appearance.

Tara clenched her jaw so hard in response that she was amazed her teeth didn't shatter. One hand fell beneath the table, fingers clenching into fists, nails digging crescent-shaped wounds into the soft flesh of her palm.

"_Please_," the vampire repeated, her voice guttural, practically hoarse from maintaining a firm restraint on her bloodlust.

Mrs. Brice clucked her tongue and shook her head, exasperation coloring the kind features of her face. She obliged Tara however and was about to reach out a hand for the tankard when Pam spoke up.

"I don't mind if you...eat, Tara."

Dark eyes shot over to Pam, almost feral orbs colliding with a pair of eyes so blue, the vibrancy of the color seemed almost impossible.

"Pamela..."

"Eat," Pam interrupted. She reached for her glass of wine and took a purposeful sip, arching an eyebrow at Tara when the vampire failed to move. "Having lived as long as you have, surely you know by now that it is rude to allow your guest to dine alone." She gestured at the tankard when a nudged of her chin. "Eat," she reiterated.

Her piece said, Pam then turned her attention to the second footman hovering nearby. At her silent behest, he wandered over and obligingly lowered a tray containing a variety of solid viands: duck, tongue, mutton and even strips of charqui. The blonde contemplated the array of meats then made her selection, transferring the food onto her plate with fluid ease.

Mrs. Brice swallowed a snicker at Pam's audacity but her shoulders still shook slightly in mirth as she observed the interaction between Tara and her companion.

Tara allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth, glad Pam felt relaxed and comfortable enough to berate her as such. "If you insist," she drawled, reaching up to pull the tankard that Mrs. Brice was not so subtly nudging back towards her.

Pam nodded sharply. "I do."

Mrs. Brice waited until Tara had begun taking tentative pulls of the crimson liquid carefully concealed in the tankard before she took her leave, pausing only to bestow upon Pam an approving smile.

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"You haven't finished your dessert. That _is_ a dessert, is it not?" Tara added, peering curiously at Pam's unfinished slice of parkin. She was overcome with a childish whimsy to poke at the piece of food the longer she regarded it but realized that such a gesture might prove rude and remained seated.

The lumpy ginger cake, enriched with oatmeal and treacle, looked like a sticky, messy hazard to Tara and though it smelled pleasant enough, the vampire was rather put off and somewhat disturbed by the manner in which the treacle would stretch and elongate as it left Pam's plate on the small fork and into the blonde's mouth.

Pam chuckled, something she found she did quite often throughout the meal Tara had carefully prepared for her. As usual, the vampire's face bore an expression that was equal measure child-like wonder and genuine perplexity as she contemplated the various courses of meats, vegetables, breads and now dessert.

"Yes, it's a dessert and if I should put another morsel into my mouth I think I shall explode," Pam admitted. She took a sip of her glass of mulse, enjoying the darker notes of boiled wine mixed with the heavier, sweeter notes of honey.

"Oh."

The vampire stared at Pam for a moment before she extended a hand, reaching slowly across the table to lightly touch the tips of her fingers to the blonde's. A besotted smile chased itself across dark pink lips when Pam reciprocated by linking their hands, alabaster fingers twining lazily around limber digits kissed by the night.

The pair spent a long moment gazing deep into each other's eyes, Tara lost in a sea that was a thousand shades of blue, shards of steel-gray floating amidst the mercurial ocean and Pam staring, enchanted into an abyss of midnight so dark and pure that it put the night sky to shame.

The moment was broken by Simone who had made a reappearance to clear the last remaining dishes from the table, scowling as she went.

"I'll thank you kindly to wipe that procacious expression off your face."

There was a quiet menace in Tara's voice, one that commanded the attention of its receiver and Simone gulped, unable to suppress a slight shudder as the atmosphere in the room suddenly starburst with traces of the vampire's power. It was subtle but palpable enough to create a sense of discomfort, more so for the irascible footman who was on the receiving end of such a reprimand.

Pam squirmed slightly in her chair, still unused to how sentient Tara's energy was when unleashed from the confines of the vampire's self-control.

"My apologies, m'lady," Simone replied, her tone as stiff as her posture though she was careful to school her face into a decidedly more neutral expression. She set the remnants of Pam's dessert on a tray and disappeared out the door, her gait jerky with anger.

Tara sighed, frustration etched in the sound as she called back her power, dampening it down until it but a mere whisper, curling around her like a languid cat.

"Please forgive Simone's curt manners," she informed Pam, midnight hued eyes apologetic. "She isn't normally so uncharitable."

"And what exactly did I do to procure such an unfavorable welcome from one of your own?" Pam questioned, her voice mild but her blue eyes zeroed in on Tara's own dark ones in a manner that demanded satisfaction by way of an explanation.

"You took me from the warmth of her bed." Tara saw no reason to lie though she tensed slightly when Pam visibly stiffened.

"I see."

Pam's voice was calm, too calm almost. The blonde forced herself to dismiss the matter, digging nails into her palm as incentive. Really, what right did she have to jealousy when her profession forced her to share her body with others?

"Did your meal prove equal to your expectations?" Tara queried, purposely steering their conversation back onto smoother waters.

"Yes," the blonde responded, inwardly sighing with relief at the change in topic. "It was all very lovely. Thank you, Tara."

Tara graced her with a slow smile. "If you are now sufficient satiated, can I now press you to take a tour of the house?"

Alacrity fired itself up in the blue of Pam's eyes at the suggestion. "Please."

Tara stood and in a burst of speed that blurred the lines of her body was suddenly next to Pam, announcing her presence with a brief gust of wind.

The vampire held out a perfunctory hand, her expression softening when Pam placed her own in it, allowing Tara to lift her to her feet.

"Hello," Tara greeted, her voice quiet with adoration as she gazed openly into Pam's eyes, unabashedly besotted.

Pam smiled and kissed Tara's cheek, letting her lips linger. "Hello."

Tara guided Pam's hand to curl around her elbow, patting it in place. "Shall we?"

At the blonde's nod, Tara turned and guided them slowly out of the dining room.

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Pam never wanted to leave. Tara's residence was like a physical manifestation of the vampire herself, every room, carpet, floor and wall reflecting some part of Tara's character, divulging a tidbit pertaining to Tara's past.

It even smelled like Tara.

It was, Pam reflected, akin to taking a stroll through the landscape that comprised of Tara's soul.

Houses as commodious as these were often too large, too expansive to retain the character of its human dwellers, choosing instead to adopt a more clinical nature, one groomed for posturing and display.

Pam knew this from experience, the estate she grew up in colder and more immaculate than a museum, her parents dismissing warmth and comfort for opulence and visual pleasure.

Tara's home was devoid of such pretense. Instead, it oozed character and charm, the vampire's numerous personality traits leaving traces on each stick of furniture, each decorative piece.

Pam ran an appreciative hand over the chaise longue that was distinctly Oriental in design. In fact, everything in this room boasted of chinoiserie influences and it was doing an impressive job of transporting the blonde to worlds far off in the east.

"I procured that from my travels to the Land of the Rising Sun," Tara explained, noting the blonde's interest.

Pam graced the vampire with a wistful smile. "How well traveled you are. I could only hope to see a fraction of what you've encountered with your own eyes."

"You will," Tara vowed as she came up behind Pam, well sculpted arms snaking around a trim waist. "I will show you everything," she promised, pressing a kiss to the side of a pale neck. "Everything and anything you desire."

Pam smiled, turned in the circle of Tara's arms and lightly touched a midnight-kissed cheek. "You're too good to me."

Tara leaned into the touch; eyes fluttering close as Pam played long fingers down the side of her face. She shuddered when a lone finger ran down the column of her throat, the touch feather-light but holding a hint of seduction.

The vampire leaned in, touched her lips lightly to Pam's, lingered then pulled back. "When you're ready," she whispered, voice husky with emotion, "I'll give you the world. You'll want for nothing, Pamela. This, I promise you."

Pam felt her eyes sting at Tara's words, her heart suddenly racing with equal parts unadulterated joy and grim trepidation. She pressed a soft kiss to Tara's cheek, using the act to show her appreciation for such a carefully constructed thought. "Shall we continue?"

Tara nodded, Pam's lips on her skin akin to a brand, one that lingered and burned.

They ambled slowly back into the hall and into an adjacent room where soft music flitted out from the half-open door.

Tara pushed open the door, allowing Pam to enter first before following. She allowed a small smile to trace her lips when the blonde immediately made a beeline for a majestic ebony grand piano situated close to the balcony.

Moonlight poured through the open balcony doors, parted curtains of white billowing gently against a cool breeze as Pam sat behind the instrument, long fingers absentmindedly running a path over the ivory keys.

"Do you play?"

Pam looked up at the sound of Tara's low alto, a bittersweet smile touching full crimson lips. "Of course. It was something that was expected of me."

Tara pushed off from the wall, her gait languid but purposeful, the vampire leaving a thin trail of power to hum behind her. She came to a stop in front of Pam, wordlessly held out a hand then lifted the blonde to her feet when Pam slipped her hand into hers.

"Come away," she requested softly, ghosting a kiss to the corner of Pam's mouth. "If it brings out memories cloyed with grief, I rather it not touch your fair skin."

Tara guided them to the other side of the room where an impressive phonograph made of pinewood, brass and gold sat, crooning a soft, gentle tune. Lifting the stylus, she moved its position, set it back down then cranked the handle, causing a sweet, melodious tune to filter out from the horn.

The vampire turned and gently took a brooding Pam into her arms, swaying her gently on the spot.

"Do you recognize it?" Tara husked into a nearby pale ear, gathering Pam closer when the blonde shivered.

"It's an aubade," Pam murmured, resting her cheek against Tara's strong shoulder, a soft sigh escaping unbidden as the peaceful is somewhat melancholic composition washed over her. "A morning love song about lovers who have no choice but to part with the coming dawn."

"Rather fitting don't you think?" Tara murmured, her voice drowsy with contentment. She danced them slowly to the open balcony doors and out into the pale moonlight, stepping back slightly so that she could twirl Pam, garnering a delighted laugh as she executed the move perfectly.

Pam smiled. "Yes," she whispered, eyes of a vivid winter-blue latching onto deep wells of ink.

Tara stopped when a cloud shifted, allowing the moon to dip the blonde in a luminescent hue. She stared at Pam, an aching sort of sadness overwhelming her senses as she watched the play of moonlight against the corn silk strands of the blonde's hair, washing those aristocratic features in a pale wash of moonshine.

"What's the matter?"

Pam touched a hand to Tara's cheek, worry marring the deep blue of her eyes as the very air around the vampire seemed to drown in tristfulness.

Tara smiled but it was a smile etched with a fierce kind of melancholy that made Pam's heart clench. The blonde responded by stroking soothing lines down a soft cheek.

"You are afflicted with sorrow," Pam observed, her voice soft with concern. "Why?"

"I'll never once be able to see the sunlight in your hair," Tara confessed, her own Southern drawl hoarse with a sudden onslaught of tears. "Or the way the day would lighten the color of your eyes."

She smiled again, this one laced with a potent sadness ringing with resignation. "I have a confession," she revealed, voice quiet. She glanced at Pam, loving the way those eyes of blue fluctuated with the temperament of a choppy sea.

"Tell me," Pam urged.

Tara closed her eyes, taking a moment to draw in the blonde's scent. "Sometimes," she began, "if I try hard enough, I can almost see you bathed in the sun's warm glow." A small smile flirted with the corners of her lips as she let her mind wander. "I quite imagine your hair would be auric with the sun's chrysochrous light, your eyes cyaneous and your skin kissed with color and warmth."

"Tara..."

"Do you regret it?" Tara interrupted softly as she opened her eyes, falling straight into an electric blue gaze. She reached out, curled a lock of flaxen hair around a midnight-dipped finger. "Me? Us?"

Pam cupped either side of Tara's face and drew her in for a heated kiss that bordered on violent. "Never," she almost snarled as she dug her fingers none too gently into the dark skin beneath her fingertips. "How dare you let your mind wander to such wretched thoughts? What have I done to enslave you to such miserable contemplations?"

Tara pulled a pale hand off of her face and kissed the inside of Pam's palm. "Nothing," she reassured her quietly fuming companion. "Absolutely nothing and don't you think otherwise." She kissed each snow-tipped fingertip, ending with a lingering kiss to the inside of Pam's wrist. "Forgive me, Princess. I spoke out of turn."

Pam shook her head and leaned in until their lips were scant inches apart. "You," she whispered, "have filled me with such joy, such vivacity these past few months." She kissed Tara, a slow press of full lips against full lips, warm breath mingling with cool breath. "You're my reason for being, Tara. I wouldn't trade you for all the sunlight in the world."

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Tara saved the best for last, ushering Pam in with a gentle press of pressure with the hand she had laid purchase on the small of the blonde's back.

To watch Pam's face go from a mask of quiet contemplation to sheer, utter awe was a vision that the vampire quickly seared into her psyche, imprinted behind her lids where she knew it would linger and serve as fodder for her dreams.

She caught Pam smartly around the waist when the blonde stumbled through the doors with more haste than was necessary, tripping on her skirts and would have fallen had it not had been for the vampire's quick reflexes.

"Easy, dear heart," Tara murmured into an alabaster ear. "There is no need to rush." She pressed up against Pam's back, breathing in her scent and smiling into hair that in the glow of the fire crackling merrily at the far end of the room, looked like spun gold when the blonde instinctively leaned back, sighing as she went.

"It's magnificent, Tara."

"Yes," the vampire murmured, nuzzling her nose into the sweet smelling strands. "You most definitely are."

Pam was too enraptured to chide Tara for turning her words on her, azure blue wide with marvel as they ran amok over the vast room filled from floor to ceiling with books.

The library boasted a high ceiling, no doubt purposefully designed as such to accommodate the circumambient entresol that wrapped around the four walls, effectively dividing the towering room in half.

The mezzanine level was accessible by two spiraling staircases on either side of the room that wound upwards towards what seemed like rows and rows of shelves that were full to bursting with books of all shapes and sizes.

Pam found herself wanting to devour each and every one.

Her love of literature was a passion Tara shared, many a long conversation generating between the two focused on books they had read and quotes that forever sweetened their tongue.

For Tara to share such treasure with her was almost more than she could bear.

The blonde turned and captured Tara's lips in a furious kiss, wrapping her arms around Tara's neck and pressing so close to the cool body of sculpted muscle that not a sliver of air could come between them.

And when Pam finally relented the sensual assault, her breathing was ragged and her chest heaved with the effort to breath whilst Tara looked suitably dazed, dark eyes blown with arousal, her sinewy frame shaking slightly.

"I take it you approve." Tara's voice was raspy with desire, feminine parts of her aching with want. She ran a thumb over Pam's kiss-swollen lip, the plush flesh damp from the way Tara had laved her tongue over it.

"Completely," was the blonde's reply. She wriggled out of Tara's arms, child-like wonder painting the features of her face. "May I?"

Tara smiled, one that spoke of tenderness and love. "Go ahead, Princess. Have your fill of words." She brushed a kiss to a pale cheek. "Here is where I leave for a spell. I have to see that Mrs. Brice and the others have retired comfortably for the evening." She bowed and lifted Pam's hand to drop a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll return momentarily."

"Take your time." Pam's parting words were absentmindedly murmured as she turned away from Tara, the library's temptation of a vast array of literature successful drawing the blonde's attention away from her host and towards the nearest shelf.

Tara watched her, heart filling with so much affection for the woman before her that she thought it would burst the confines of her chest.

She spared herself one last lingering gaze before she padded silently out of the library, leaving Pam to her literary adventures.

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Tara stalked into the library, her booted feet making not a sound against the Persian rug that lined the floor. Worry marred the immortal features of her face as the effluvial scent of a lingering sadness curled in the air like smoke.

It was faint, the melancholia, yet present enough to rattle the vampire's overprotective senses into a state of frenzy.

She crossed over to the far end of the room, powerful thighs taking long strides in an attempt to quickly eat up the distance separating her and Pam.

As Tara rounded the solid mahogany fainting couch with a maroon upholstery, a tell-tale sniffle broke the last vestiges of her self-control and the vampire blurred forward to where Pam was ensconced on an overstuffed padded armchair.

The blonde was huddled in the armchair, curled up in a manner that made it look like the piece of furniture was in the process of swallowing her whole. A book lay open in her lap, long fingers of snow absentmindedly caressing the printed words even as tearful blue eyes scanned each line with sharp precision.

"Pamela."

Tara dropped heavily to a knee by the side of the armchair, heart aching as dark eyes took in the sight of twin tear tracks drying on pale cheeks.

The vampire thought her heart would rip itself to shreds when Pam turned a grief-stricken gaze onto her. She reached up, touched her fingers lightly to a fire-warmed cheek, the act unfailingly tender.

"Your eyes sing the most harrowing tristiloquy," she observed, voice cracking slightly as a perfect teardrop cascaded down from the corner of Pam's eye. "What vile demons have called forth your tears this time?"

Pam sniffed and blinked, scattering minute tears that clung to pale eyelashes down her cheeks like diamonds. She gazed at Tara, noted how with the fire blazing at her back, it seemed to create an aurulent halo around the vampire, igniting her frame in a manner that made her look like a fallen angel.

"I'm not upset," she tried to reassure a fretful Tara. When the vampire turned an incredulous gaze on her, Pam offered a washed out smile. "Really. I'm just...remembering."

"Remembering what?" Tara asked, her voice soft. She played ebony fingers down a damp cheek, hoping the act would smooth away some of the blonde's sorrow.

Pam's lower lip quivered as she stared at Tara, the gentleness in those dark eyes forever her undoing. "Alfred Lord Tennyson," she divulged, holding up the small book of poems she held in an almost desperate fashion between long fingers of ivory.

"One of Britain's most hailed poets," Tara spoke. "Yes. I know of his work."

"He was a friend of my father's."

Tara's fingers stroked at the soft, smooth, warm skin beneath her fingertips, impressing upon Pam, comfort by way of each soft touch. She made not a sound, choosing instead to patiently wait for the reasoning behind the tears that dotted winter-blue eyes like resplendent stars.

"He...he used to read me poems," Pam almost choked out, her voice husky with tears as memories of a past life surfaced, past joy vying with present sorrow. "When I was a little girl, he would escort me into slumber by weaving me a tapestry of words."

Tara's fingers never stopped their soothing caresses though they paused just long enough for her index finger to retrieve one lone perfect teardrop that fell to settle on Pam's cheek.

A wistful smile crept unbidden onto her lips at Pam's mention of her youthful counterpart. Dark eyes adopted a faraway gaze as Tara conjured up an image of a little girl with sky-blue eyes and hair the color of wheat tucked beneath warm sheets, her face aglow with esprit as she await eagerly to be spirited off into the Land of Nod through the vehicle of a poem.

"I'm sure you were a rather precocious child," Tara mused. "Rapscallion too judging from your highly developed wit," she teased in an attempt to lighten the somber atmosphere.

Pam chuckled at this. Her mirth was a brief reprieve, one that was afforded a short presentation on the features of the blonde's face before melancholic fingers chased it away.

More tears slipped down Pam's cheeks as the memories returned and Tara let them, simply thumbing them away even as she continued to play worshipful fingers down the side of her blonde companion's cheek.

"_If I had a flower for every time I thought of you," _Tara recited memoriter, using the hand she had on Pam's cheek to tilt her head up so that their lips could meet. It was simple brush of lips against lips, an act that basic and pure._ "I could walk through my garden forever_."

The vampire smiled as she returning to stroking Pam's cheek, veneration painting lines on the soft, pale skin. "It is one of my favorite verses from your Tennyson."

"_Love is the only gold_," Pam murmured in kind, her voice husky. "My father disliked how he would 'fill my head with fanciful notions of love.'"

The blonde sighed and closed the book in her lap. Placing it on the small table next to the armchair, she turned and regarded Tara with a look of deep contemplation.

"Tara?"

"I'm here."

"I miss him."

"I know."

Tara understood that Pam wasn't talking about the poet, or rather, not simply the poet. Despite the bitterness that swept across ice-blue eyes whenever the blonde would mention her father, the vampire could see, burning deep in those blue depths, a love and longing for the man who had helped in the engineering of her existence.

"Pamela?"

The way Tara breathed out her name, her low alto melodious as the vampire gathered breath and sound, ingredients her tongue then molded into a vocal manifestation, was awash in nothing less than utter devotion.

Pam gazed up into eyes that reflected a midnight sky. Eyes that never once judged her, never conveyed anything but tenderness, warmth and love.

"Yes?"

"May I hold you?"

Pam let loose a sob at the words, Tara's gentle plea unraveling something within her.

"Please."

The responding answer had barely left Pam's mouth before Tara was on her feet. She swept Pam into her arms, cradled her close as though she nothing less than wholly precious and carried her over to the fainting couch.

The vampire descended, careful not to jostle her teary armload. She tucked Pam against her front, holding her as though her own flesh and blood and bone alone would be able to shield Pam from the terrors of her thoughts, the ugliness that was the world outside.

Pam buried her face in Tara's chest in response, needing the comfort the vampire was so willingly offering. She took deep lungfuls of her dark savior's scent, let the wash of musk, cloves and sandalwood chase away the more despairing thoughts that still clung to the forefront of her mind.

"Don't let go," she mumbled and Tara just knew Pam was referring to more than just the embrace she was currently locked in.

She pressed a soft kiss to even softer corn silk hair. "I wouldn't know how," was all she replied.

Sometime after, when Pam felt marginally strong enough to leave the comforting circle of Tara's arms, she pulled back, albeit reluctantly.

"Hello," Tara greeted simply when blue eyes, still muddy with residual tears, met her own.

Pam smiled then blanched as she reached up only to find her cheeks wet with tears. "I must look a fright," she cringed.

When she made an attempt to turn away, Tara caught her chin, her grip gentle but insistent as she turned Pam's head back towards her.

You are," she began, her voice almost a sigh. "The quiddity of beauty." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to full lips. "I will never see you as anything less than lovely." Another kiss, this time to a damp cheek. "Your exquisiteness knows no bounds, Pamela. And it never will."

"That does not excuse the fact that my face is still a mess," Pam murmured though she was smiling, her cheeks tinted with a faint blush of crimson that came courtesy of Tara's sincere words and not the fire dancing hypnotically in its grate.

"But a beautiful mess," Tara corrected gently. She moved in for another kiss, a small, almost indiscernible peck on the corner of Pam's mouth. "However, since you feel so strong about the matter, I shall remedy the situation immediately."

The vampire slid out from under Pam and stood, gracing her with a beauteous smile. "If you'll excuse me a moment."

Pam nodded and Tara sketched a bow before she left only to return moments later with a bowl of warm water and a soft flannel cloth.

The vampire set the items on the small, circular table sitting between the armchair and the fainting couch then took a knee in front of Pam. She dipped the flannel into the water, wrung out the excess liquid then said, "May I?"

At Pam's nod, Tara set about cleaning Pam's face. She was unfailingly gentle, her touch so soothing, so comforting that the blonde was lulled into a quiescent state.

Tara ran the damp cloth over the aristocratic features of Pam's face, gently washing away lingering traces of kohl the blonde had smudged under her eyes and the rouge she had painted liberally over her full lips.

"There you are," Tara whispered when she finished. She returned the cloth to the bowl, her dark eyes never leaving Pam's. "Stunning," she added, her voice hushed.

"I wish I could see what you see when you look at me," Pam said, her voice quiet, slightly overwhelmed by the look of naked infatuation in Tara's eyes.

Tara reached for Pam's hand and brought it up to her lips. Brushing a soft kiss to pale knuckles, she whispered, "I see strength," she began. "Strength enforced by an indomitable will." She turned the hand she held so gently in her own and dropped a kiss to the inside of Pam's wrist. "I also see sorrow. Sorrow, pain and grief. It burdens you, makes you ache but you draw strength from these encumbrances, you bend them to _your_ will." A third kiss, this time to the palm of Pam's hand. "I also see a beauty that outshines the sun, the stars and moon above. It is a beauty that transcends time, a beauty the gods could only hope to take credit for."

Tara leaned in and placed a fourth and final kiss to Pam's waiting lips. "And I am not simply speaking of your aesthetic appeal, Pamela." Dark eyes settled on rapidly tearing pools of sapphire. "I speak of your heart. Your heart _and_ your soul." A hand came to rest on the swell of Pam's breast, directly over the beating muscle. "This is where your beauty comes from, Pamela." She smiled gently as Pam's heart tattooed a steady percussion of beats against her palm. "It shines with a light that is bright and true. No darkness, from hell, earth or beyond will ever diminish such purity for it is a light graced upon you by heaven itself."

"Tara…"

"I know you've endured hardships that have tainted your perspectives on not just the world but your own character," Tara cut in gently. "And it slays me repeatedly that I could not prevent you from such grief. However, believe me when I say that there is nothing unlovable about you. _Nothing_." Tara reached down and entwined their fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You _are_ loveable, Pamela. And you deserve to be loved. Completely."

Pam leaned forward at this and Tara was there to catch her, folding Pam in her embrace in a gesture so fluid that it was almost natural. As though, Pam belonged in her arms, a perfect piece to her puzzle.

Tara nuzzled her nose into Pam's hair, taking in her powerful, unique feminine scent. She ran her hands up and down Pam's back, the act meant to sooth, to relax.

"You are so precious to me, Pamela," she murmured. "Words cannot express how much I exult in your presence."

Pam sank into those arms, never wanting to be released from them. There in Tara's arms she was never felt safer, more cherished. She buried her face into the crook of Tara's neck, closing her eyes to relish the closeness.

"Would you care for a stroll around the gardens?" Tara asked moments later, her voice muffled as she murmured her request into sweet-smelling hair.

Pam shook her head. "Just...just hold me."

And Tara did. She scooted up and settled behind Pam only to immediately draw her back into her arms.

Pam went willingly, curling up against Tara's front, the vampire' cool body contrasting pleasantly with the warm wash of heat emanating from the cheerfully crackling fire.

Tara rocked the precious bundle in her arms, pausing only to swipe the book of poems from the table. She opened it, scanned the table of contents before turning to a designated page.

"Let's see if we can't make you some new memories to overshadow the ones that have been soiled, hmm?" Tara whispered, pressing a kiss to Pam's temple. She held the book out in front of them, smiling once when Pam ghosted a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

"'_Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all..."_

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – All italic speeches in the chapter are quotes courtesy of Alfred Lord Tennyson. No copyright infringement intended. Oh and to help you visualize Tara's library, think of the library Beast had in Beauty and the Beast. *dreamy sigh* Now, THAT, was a library. I would never leave.


	14. The Beast Within

**A/N –** Nothing to say. Unless you want to know that I just spent the last six hours going through a horror/gore movie marathon. Thanks for those who took the time to not only read but type out a review.

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**Chapter 14 – The Beast Within**

A shoulder collided into her own.

By sheer force of habit, Tara allowed her body to react to the unexpected assault. She executed a perfectly stumble, her body jerking slightly in feigned surprise as she allowed the touch to propel her back a fraction. The vampire even went so far as to allow a small gasp of indignation to flit out from dark pink lips.

It was an act, nothing more. Centuries of living in a world dominated by humans had taught the vampire that sometimes, blending in with the sheep proved more advantageous than prowling cockily about like the beast she actually was.

"I beg your pardon, good s..."

The apology, initially delivered with genuine sincerity, tapered off as a pair of deep-set whisky colored eyes fell onto Tara.

Tara righted herself, readjusting the felt derby hat propped slightly askew on her head as she silently bore the stranger's rapidly critical gaze with thinly veiled patience.

The man who had bumped into Tara assessed his unexpected victim with a gaze that was quickly filling with disdain, a sneer begging to appear on his lips.

Tara eyed him in return, frost creeping over midnight eyes as the air around the stranger grew shrill with derision.

The stranger was handsome, almost classically so. He wore a face that was all high cheekbones, a strong jaw and winged eyebrows. Deep set eyes the color of whisky held a distant sort of arrogance that could only come from one of wealthy stock and his lips were tumid enough to offer a sort of cruel sensuality that no doubt sent many a woman swooning.

He was tall. Not ungainly so but enough to allow him to carry himself in a manner that bespoke of a confidence that bordered on egotistical. Underneath his upper class garments, all of which were neatly pressed, he boasted an athletic physique of carefully nurtured musculature.

In short, he was the physical embodiment of the kind of romantic, heroic character found in romance novels.

And he was well aware of his harshly masculine beauty, judging from the way he smirked superciliously at Tara, as though he were waiting for her to press a hand to her heart and bat her eyelashes at him.

Tara was decidedly unimpressed.

Not because she had a fierce inclination towards the fairer sex but because the haughtiness oozing off this stranger was irrevocably off putting.

As was the blatantly disparaging look in his eyes.

"Begging your pardon..._miss_."

The apology was mocking, transparently so, the word "miss" constructed in a manner that was meant to sound insulting rather than polite.

Tara's fangs instinctively snarled, making its displeasure known by sending a ripple of pain to explode down her guns.

The vampire did not know whether it was her cisvestitism, the color of her skin or a potent combination of both that resulted such an expression of disdain to paint stark colors over his face.

Frankly, she didn't care. Not when the beast within howled for retribution for such rude an engagement.

Tara cinched her jaw.

She forced her beast to heel, wrestled it back into a cage Tara carefully constructed out of civilized clothing, astute manners and sheer, obstinate will.

She acknowledged the man's address with a curt nod, face impassive. Sidestepping the stranger, whose whisky-soaked eyes followed her sinewy frame with deep scrutiny, Tara's right boot had only just managed to hover over the bottom step of the brothel when a sudden gust of wind blew directly in the stranger's direction.

Tara froze.

She froze, for in the wind, came a scent that by now, she knew better than her own.

Lavender and honeysuckle.

That achingly beautiful strand of melancholic vanilla.

_Pam_.

Tara's fangs snapped down with a vicious click, cutting into the inside her lip.

The coppery tang of blood sang its sweet victory into the air around the vampire as Tara brought her foot down on the bottom step with more force than was necessary, leaving a visible crack.

Control.

She would have it, come hell or high water.

The vampire took another step until she was standing on the bottom step and off the sidewalk.

She would have made it up to the second step had the wind not blew a second petulant gust at the stranger and therefore at Tara.

Blood.

She smelled blood.

Blood that came laced with the bouquet of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

Tara's reaction to smelling Pam's blood on this stranger was virulent, unhinged.

Control – what little the vampire had of it the second she realized that this stranger had recently come from the warmth of Pam's bed, from her _arms_ – snapped.

Tara moved in a fashion too quick for human eyes, her body all but an odd blur as she redirected herself down the steps towards the stranger who had taken to walking down the sidewalk at a languid amble.

He even had the nerve to whistle.

Tara grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and sent him careening into the side of the brothel building.

The side of his face met the hard structure with an unpleasant thud.

Something cracked.

Tara hoped it was a bone.

The man let loose a string of expletives that turned the air blue at Tara's rough assault. He struggled against the vampire's grip, was flabbergasted when he found that he couldn't break the vice-like hold Tara had on him.

"I say!" he spoke instead, turning his outrage into a vocalization. His voice was rich, cultured and plummy.

The voice of the aristocracy.

Tara pushed him further into the wall.

"What is the meaning of this?" the stranger demanded, wincing slightly as the coarse texture of the wall scraped abrasions against his cheek.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Low words. Dangerous words. Etched in steel and fortified by a low rumble that boiled up from deep within Tara's chest.

"I demand you unhand me at once!"

Tara pulled him back towards her then slammed him back up against the wall, eliciting a pained gasp.

"Answer the question, stranger."

Tara could barely formulate coherent words. Growled spilled over full lips that were parted to allow sharp incisors to rest dangerously over plump, vulnerable flesh.

The vampire's entire sinewy frame was nothing short of organic steel, thrumming with a rage that sought to find an outlet in the man she currently held captive.

She wanted to kill him.

She wanted to kill him for daring to wear Pam's scent and blood like badges of honor.

The beast within her purred with approval, salivating at the thought of tasting the stranger's blood .

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," the man hissed, still managing to adopt an air of righteous indignation despite the way Tara kept his body pressed painfully up against the side of the brothel building.

Tara growled and spun him around so that his back was to the wall. She kept her fangs concealed but knew she didn't need them to incite terror into this stranger.

Not when she could feel the burn of her anger scalding her eyes.

The man, now able to see his attacker, narrowed those whisky-colored eyes as he took in the sight of Tara.

"Negro _bitch_."

He spat at her, the wad of spittle landing on a dark cheek.

Tara didn't react to the racial slur. Words were words, only given razor edges and ammunition when the receiver allowed such hurtful decoration.

Tara didn't.

Instead, she calmly wiped off the spittle running down the side of her face. Then, she drove a fist into the stranger's stomach, using not even a fraction of her vampiric strength.

No. She wanted him alive.

Pulverizing his innards would be a satisfaction that would prove all too brief.

And she needed answers.

Tara watched, unmoved as the stranger's body jackknifed, his upper torso doubling over from the force of the punch and the shrieking notes of pain that exploded out from his sternum.

"Don't make me repeat myself, stranger."

Tara's tone was low, chillingly cold. Power throbbed in the air around her, curdling its molecules until the vampire's energy was almost sentient, tangible.

The man righted himself as best he could, one hand clamped over his abused stomach, his breath sawing erratically in and out of his parted mouth.

Tara was almost bemused when he swung out a fist, intending to clock her in the jaw.

She called forth the speed afford to her as a vampire and blurred off to the side.

"What..."

The man turned around, jumping violently when Tara reappeared at his left.

Tara smiled, revealing slowly, the fangs she had so carefully kept concealed.

The man took one look at those lengthy incisors and made a strangled sound in his throat. He stumbled backwards, almost tripping in his haste to widen the distance between him and Tara, eyes wide with alarm.

Fear. The man stank of it and the pungent aroma of his terror only served to act an aphrodisiac for Tara's beast.

The vampire didn't allow her prey to go far.

The stranger had barely taken five clumsy steps before Tara was back in front of him, grabbing a rough fistful of the lapels of his frock coat and throwing him back up against the wall.

His back hit the wall with an unpleasant thump, his feet dangling inches from the ground as Tara held him up by his neck.

"W-what are you?!" he managed to choke out as he clawed futilely at the dark fingers that were akin to bands of steels wrapping around his throat.

"Your executioner should you continue to delay this conversation," Tara snarled, tightening the grip she had on the stranger's throat.

He let loose a wet gurgle and wheezed in a manner that sounded painful if pathetically pitiful.

"I...I don't know what you mean."

Any bravado the man held in his possession slipped like mercury through his fingers as Tara released the full extent of her indomitable power.

It fairly screamed through the air, causing the molecules that engineered the cold, crisp atmosphere of San Francisco to throb with energy. It was almost palpable, unavoidable and absolutely undeniable.

And Tara focused it all on him.

The man whimpered and tried to curl in on himself, feeling as though multiple hands were pressing on all sides of his body, threatening to contort him into a space that felt far too small. His head buzzed like a nest of angry hornets and whether this phenomenon was from fear or something otherworldly, he did not know.

"P-please. Have mercy," he whimpered, still trying in vain to pry those immovable fingers off his neck.

"Did you patronize Ms. Beaufort this evening?" Tara demanded, loosening her hold a fraction, enough for the man to articulate a response.

"My whore?"

The brutal slap came out of nowhere, Tara's hand but a blur as she brought it up to collide with almost vampiric force against his cheek.

Blood sprayed out of the man's mouth, both his upper and lower lip splitting open like dry cracks in the ground. The skin on his cheek exploded with red, the capillaries beneath his sun-kissed skin starbursting with blood.

Something inside of his mouth was jarred loose.

The stranger groaned in pain.

"She is _not_ your anything!" Tara hissed, vehemence coating her Southern lilt as she shook him violently, the fingers she had around his throat tightening almost fatally before she forced them to loosen. "And don't you ever, _ever_ call Ms. Beaufort a whore in my presence again."

The man nodded, as much as he could from under Tara's vice grip. Pain and horror were graven onto his face, blood pulsing out from the wounds on his lips.

Tara glared at him. She was shaking so hard from rage that the air around her fairly vibrated with her lividness. Her face was an exercise in terror, lips pulled back into an ugly snarl, her fangs glistening under the auric glow of the lamppost nearby.

"Answer. The. Question." Dark eyes zeroed in on whisky-hued ones, hard chips of obsidian that had the promise of death stamped all over them.

"Answer. Or tonight will be your last, stranger," Tara added warningly.

"Y-yes. Yes, I patronized the...Ms. Beaufort this evening," the man confessed, his answer barely intelligible given the manner in which the words practically stumbled out of his mouth in a panic slew.

Tara leaned in, growls intensifying in sound and ferocity. She took a precursory sniff then snarled in a fashion that caused the man jumped violently in Tara's grasp before he took to resuming his fearful study of the vampire's very sharp, very fatal looking fangs.

"I can smell her blood on you," Tara rumbled, her voice barely resembling that of a human's. "You wear not only her scent on you like a second skin but also her _blood_."

The ancient part of Tara, the part that still subscribed to antiquated notions such as honor and justice, was outraged. Outraged and downright insulted that this man, this _stranger_, had the audacity to brand a woman with the marks of violence, to break skin and call forth the crimson liquid that sustained life.

Tara snarled and it was a terrifying, feral sound. Her vision reddened and something dangerously primordial sparked in the deep recesses of her eyes.

"Did you hurt her?" Tara growled as she lowered him so that their noses were almost touching. She glared into eyes that were petrified beyond understanding, daring him to lie to her.

"ANSWER ME!" Tara bellowed when the man refused to answer. She shook him once, threw him like a rag doll against the wall and watched, with no trace of satisfaction as his head snapped back and met the hard structure with a sickening crack.

"No! No, please! Please, stop!" the man gasped through pained wheezes. He tried valiantly to struggle out of Tara's grasp, a futile effort on his part but his actions were born out of instinct, a need to survive.

Tara leaned in and pressed her sinewy frame against the length of the man's front. "If I find that you were lying, that you _lied_ to save your pathetic hide, I will find you." She took a deliberate inhale of his scent, committing the combination of citrus and rum to memory. "I will find you and make you regret that you ever learned how to draw breath. I will make your worst nightmare seem like a child's fairytale. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, too petrified to do anything but comply. He swallowed, his eyes darting back and forth, looking anywhere but the terrifying image that was Tara's inhuman face.

"Yes," he rasped, voice high with fear. "Please. Please, I beg you. Let me go."

Letting the stranger who had dared laid his ungrateful and unwanted hands on Pam was the last thing Tara wanted to do.

But to kill him would be to cross a line.

A line that would open up a distance between Tara and Pam.

Tara's beast howled as it felt the beginnings of a retreat back to civility. It retaliated, spitting a noxious vat of bloodlust down Tara's veins, causing her fangs to ache with want of blood.

It would be so easy. To bend down just a little more. To snap the man's head sideways, exposing his carotid artery. To see it engorged, pumping with life giving blood.

Sinking her fangs into his neck would be nothing short of glorious.

But she wouldn't do it.

She wouldn't do it for Pam.

"Look at me." Tara released the hold she had on the man's neck, used the same hand to grip his chin in a not so gentle hold. "You will not lay violent hands on Ms. Beaufort, physically, emotionally or sexually. If she tells you to desist, you _will_ desist. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," came the monotonous reply, the man easily sinking under Tara's thrall.

"You will have no recollection of this encounter. For all you know, you had too much too much to drink and engaged in a barroom brawl. That is how you sustained these injuries of yours."

"Drink…" the man echoed distantly, eyes glassy from being under the influence of Tara's glamor.

Having successfully implanted a new series of memories into the stranger's addled mind, Tara dropped her hands from the man and pushed away from him, disgust seeping from her pores. "Leave this place. _Now_."

The man took off at a jog, his frock coat whipping slightly behind him like a pair of wings.

Tara watched him go, her body so overcome with the need to take off after the man and rip out his throat that every inert muscle in her tense body shrieked with unholy pain.

Tara ignored the call of her primitive self and forced her fangs into a stubborn retreat back into the sheath of her gums.

She allowed herself a moment in the dark, the thin fingers of fog curling around her, shielding her, as though it sensed her pain, her anguish.

And when her body had finally stopping quivering like a plucked string, her blood not on a hard boil from bloodlust and the need to exact murder in honor of Pam, Tara turned and blurred up and into the brothel.

xxxxxxxx

Tara burst into the arousal choked room, almost tearing the door off its hinges.

Pam, who had been sitting in front the vanity, jumped violently, long fingers of snow immediately reaching out to curl around the handle of a sharpened letter opener sitting close the vanity's mirror.

The blonde turned, blade in hand, only to find Tara standing by the open door, eyeing her with a hawkish intensity that simultaneously made her feel protected and anxious.

"Tara?"

Instinct forced Pam to keep a hold on the letter opener she still had in her tight grasp and although she knew that Tara wouldn't harm her, the almost manic and feral look in those midnight eyes sparked off a deep sense of self-preservation.

"Tara…"

Her vampire didn't answer, didn't look as though she could formulate a coherent sentence. She stared at Pam from where she stood framed by the threshold of the door, fists clenching where they hung on either side of a sinewy frame that was altogether too tense for Pam's liking.

Then, Tara moved towards her. Her gait resembled that of a sleek jungle cat that had its quarry in sight, long limbs stretching out in an almost lazy, predatory prowl.

Pam shivered as Tara came to a stop in front her, dark eyes unreadable, her entire body coiled with tension. A small gasp escaped from crimson smeared lips as Tara's power kicked in.

It was raw. Savage.

It manifested itself in the form of a tingling caress of dangerous energy, burning lightly over alabaster kissed skin. Not hurting, but warning that the owner of such indomitable power did not suffer fools or idiots lightly.

Pam shuddered as the air in the room turned gluey, tangible. She forced herself to put down the letter opener even though some dormant, primitive part of her was reluctant to relent its steely grip around the silver handle.

Then, she gazed up into a pair of tumult obsidian eyes.

Tara stood before Pam, her breathing labored, an odd presentation in of itself for it as a known fact that vampires did not need to breathe.

However, it wasn't the human act of inhaling and exhaling that made Pam's breath catch.

It was the look in Tara's eyes.

There was a raw, petrifying kind of violence in the vampire's eyes. It was like an inferno, blazing hot and bright behind a curtain of ebony, glinting off those midnight pools and lending them a savage glow.

Staring into such enraged eyes was akin to standing in the eye of a ruthless storm. Pam could feel its rage, its chaos, its need to rent and tear and destroy revolving around her, deafening her with its war-cry for blood and retribution.

She should have been afraid to be near such raw destruction.

Instead, she found that there was something dangerously attractive about the heated anger in Tara's eyes.

Pam reached out a hand, the appendage shaking slightly as she extended it slowly towards Tara.

She flinched when Tara dropped heavily to her knees in front of her, effectively kneeling between her legs.

The pale arm retreated, folding back to Pam's side as Tara reached out with both hands and alighted them on either side of Pam's face. Dark fingers began walking over the aristocratic features, each sweep and caress openly and unapologetically proprietary. They were also probing, searching.

For what, Pam didn't know.

But she remained rooted to the bench, Tara's touch rendering her in a state of paralysis.

Tara's fingers possessively roamed the landscape that was Pam's face. They traced the celestial slope of Pam's nose, the delicate arches of her eyebrows. They ran alongside her hairline and down to sculpted cheekbones before tracing the side of a jaw. A thumb brushed over her full lower lip, growls immediately spilling with quick succession out from dark pink lips as they grazed over a sundry cut, barely discernible but still marring the otherwise tumid flesh.

"He _hurt_ you."

Tara's voice was gravelly, as though she were attempting to speak around a mouthful of rocks. Dark eyes flashed with renewed violence, the bloodlust that had barely begun to cool in her veins suddenly finding a second wind.

When Tara moved her traveling fingers down to the column of Pam's throat, the blonde flinched slightly, causing dark eyes to immediately wander down.

The second Tara caught sight of the beginnings of a contusion in the shape of a finger, she recoiled from Pam as though the blonde had burned her.

The vampire shot to her feet, power screaming off her in waves, so much so that Pam shrank back in response.

"Tara..."

"I am going to _eviscerate _him," Tara snarled, malice screeching from each letter as she pivoted in an almost violent fashion before stalking back towards the open door, every step etched with rage. "I will make him regret the day he was born."

She had barely taken a step over the threshold when Pam ran up to her, clamping a hard grip over Tara's wrist and tugging desperately.

"Stop, Tara. _Stop_."

Tara swung back to glare at Pam who suppressed a visible flinch at the livid look in Tara's eyes. She tugged at Tara's wrist again, her action urgent, the expression on her face pleading.

"_Please_." Blue eyes were wide and whether they held fear, worry, anxiety or an awful concoction of all three, Pam didn't know. All she knew was that if she let Tara go, it would break something between them.

"Please," Pam whispered again. "Please, Tara."

Tara cinched her jaw, creating such a dreadful pressure on her teeth that they howled for respite. Dark eyes were wild, feral as they vacillated between the small graze on Pam's lip and the barely there bruise on the side of her neck.

"He adorned you with the banners of violence." Tara's voice was an aria of agony, as though it hurt her to articulate each word. "He _hurt_ you. I want him to pay."

Pam tried for reason, though she knew, deep down, it would not be well received. "Superficial injuries occur during the height of passion, Tara. It is nothing more than an occupational hazard."

Tara snarled and shook Pam's hold off of her wrist, scared than in the heat of her rage, she might exact on the blonde, her own terrible mark.

"He had the _audacity_ to saunter out of your chambers, head held high, _whistling_ when he knew he was in possession of the knowledge of having broken and bruised your alabaster flesh."

Tara was shaking, her entire body vibrating with the need to hurt, to spill fresh blood.

The beast was close to the surface. Dangerously close.

And it only had blood on its mind and murder in its heart.

Pam slamming the door to her room shut momentarily snapped Tara out of her rage-induced stupor.

The vampire turned to find Pam leaning heavily, defiantly against the door, going so far as to cross her arms over her generous chest.

For the first time since she had barged, uninvited into Pam's chambers, Tara suddenly registered the state of undress Pam was in.

The blonde wore nothing but a sheer satin negligee.

Tara suddenly turned around so fast that she not only gave herself whiplash but she fell out of Pam's visual radar for a split second.

Any thoughts of wanting to rip out the throat of the stranger she had unfortunately encountered outside of Pam's establishment fell away in favor of the fact that she had just rudely imposed on the blonde's modesty.

"My apologies, Ms. Beaufort."

Dark eyes trained themselves intently, furiously on the floor, Tara's entire posture one tense, coiled muscle. "I beg your forgiveness for my rude intrusion. I'll let you get dressed."

Eyes still glued to the hardwood floors, Tara began to edge around the silent blonde, freezing when Pam once again reached out to encircle long fingers of ivory around her wrist.

"Stay."

Pam leaned in, feathered a light kiss to a dark cheek then studied Tara for a moment. When she was sure the vampire wouldn't leave, Pam made her way back to the vanity.

Tara kept her back to Pam, refusing to allow perfidious eyes to roam anywhere near the nearly naked blonde. She was furious with herself. Furious for her lack of control. Furious for barging uninvited into a woman's chambers like a drunken scoundrel.

Furious for allowing Pam to see her so unhinged.

Sensitive ears picked up a soft rasp of silk against soft skin. It was followed by a slightly louder whisper of silk sliding against silk as Pam tied the sash of her kimono styled robe around her waist.

"You can turn around, Tara."

The vampire hesitated but then did as bade, schooling the immortal features of her face into a mask of abject apology as she pivoted.

"I beg your humblest apologies, Ms. Beaufort," Tara began, her voice contrite and low with regret, projecting these emotions over the simmer of an anger that still burned through her veins like acid. "I did not mean to impinge upon your modesty. Please accept my deepest regret and forgiveness."

"Tara."

Tara didn't respond to the exasperated manner in which her name was conceived from those tantalizing lips.

Instead, she turned and walked towards a six-peg walnut coat rack standing sentinel by the side of the door. She plucked the black felt derby hat off of her head and hung it on a peg before shrugging off her charcoal-black frock coat.

Tara was still itchy with anger, her skin feeling far too tight over her bones. She unbuttoned the black brocade waistcoat, tugged fitfully at the thin tie adorning her neck as though it were personally trying to choke her.

A pale hand alighting on her shoulder almost made her jump.

"What happened tonight, Tara?"

Tara allowed herself a second of indulgence from that warm hand. Then, she shrugged off Pam's touch, not needing to turn around to see the hurt look that flashed across those wintry features.

She could _feel_ it.

It curled in the air, Pam's upset over Tara's rejection of her touch, like a lingering, unpleasant scent.

Tara hated that she had coaxed such an emotion from the blonde.

But she couldn't bear to face Pam.

Not yet.

Not when her eyes still smoldered with bloodlust and the beast within rent deep, bleeding groves directly under her skin, snarling for release.

Tara turned her attention to the modestly opulent brass bed with its intricate swirls that made up the headboard.

Rumpled sheets and dented pillows greeted her ink-soaked gaze, instantly conjuring up a scenario that made the possessive beast in her roar with fury.

Pam had recently come from that bed.

And she had shared it with another.

Another that wasn't Tara.

The vampire gazed at the bed with equal parts maddening jealousy and fierce yearning. With her superior sense of smell, which was currently unfortunate given the way the room was heady with recently spent sex, Tara could almost visualize the wisps of arousal steaming up from the rumpled bed.

Arousal that whilst was predominately engineered with the aroma of citrus and rum, also came peppered with the faintest notes of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

Tara tore her eyes away, unable to withstand the prolonged visual evidence of Pam's earlier activities. She took purposeful strides to the window, threw it open and stuck out her head, drawing deep, greedy breaths of the frost-bitten briny air, shoulders almost sagging as it helped to bat away the smell of sex and desire.

"You met with Lord Milton."

It wasn't a question and Tara turned briefly to allow her eyes to settle on a pair of azure eyes that were cool and distant if slightly concerned.

"If you speak of the client you recently entertained in your chambers this evening, then yes," Tara replied, her voice even. She turned back to look out into the street. "Briefly in passing."

"What did you do, Tara?"

The vampire let loose a wry chuckle at this. Once again, she was confounded by how easily Pam was able to read her in the short months they were together. The blonde had an uncanny ability to gauge her moods, to divine if she were withholding information or in the process of producing a tidbit.

For a guarded person such as her, Tara was continually astounded by how Pam managed to read her like an open book.

"I nearly killed him."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Tara turned so that she was facing Pam once more. Dark eyes were unapologetic as they met with a sea of winter-blue.

"Why?"

It was an asinine question. Pam knew it the second the sentence had unfurled out from between her lips but she it released anyway. Anything to feed the staggered conversation between her and Tara.

The snow-kissed skin on Pam's arms broke out with goose bumps as Tara barked out a harsh, bitter laugh.

"He wore your scent like a badge of honor." Full lips curled, a vicious sneer threatening to slash a line over that luscious mouth. "He dared spill so carelessly the crimson liquid that gives you life." Tara latched a dark gaze onto Pam's face. "Did you really think I would simply walk past him without exacting some form of retaliation?"

Pam sighed, carding fingers through her thick mop of corn silk hair that was in a slight disarray from her earlier activities. "You can't use my clients as vehicles for your personal vendetta, Tara. It's not right."

"I am vampire. I am obliged to comport myself as one."

Pam bristled beneath the thin veneer of her propriety. "If you've a care for me at all..."

"I care for you so deeply it wrecks me," Tara interrupted, her tone brusque. She pushed off from the window sill and walked towards Pam, her gait stiff, body coiled with tension she had yet to shed.

She stopped in front of the blonde, reached out and traced the small cut on Pam's lip.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Tara's voice was awash in anguish as she followed the sensuous arc of Pam's upper lip. "How much allowing you to your affairs flays my heart with jealously and drowns my soul in failure? This –" she returned to touching the small cut. "– this is a physical manifestation of my failure to protect you from harm." Dark fingers ghosted down Pam's throat, caressed the light contusion marring the otherwise flawless alabaster flesh. "This, is a mark of violence. I allowed such injustice to brand your skin. I _failed_ you."

When Tara attempted to turn her head away, shame coloring the features of her face, Pam cupped the cheek shrouded in shadow and used it to turn the vampire's gaze back to her.

"Look at me."

Tara looked, helpless as always to deny Pam anything.

"I love you."

Tara inhaled sharply as though she had just been delivered a blow to the gut. Midnight kissed eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly as Pam's words registered with her brain.

Pam smiled at her dark savior's flabbergasted reaction, her expression slightly bittersweet. "I'm sorry. Truly. It is selfish of me to continue to ask so much of you, to love you as I do." Long, slender fingers of ivory caressed a smooth, dark cheek. "But I do, Tara. I love you. With every fiber of my being." She bent, placed a soft, barely there kiss to the corner of Tara's mouth. "All I'm asking for is time. Give me time to close this chapter of my life so that I can start anew with you." Another kiss, this time to soft, full lips that whispered cool breath onto her warm mouth. "Don't you want that too? A fresh page. Unsoiled by the ink of my burdens. Untouched. Clean."

Tara reached up and around, curling her fingers over the back of Pam's head and pressing gently down on it so that Pam was obliged to lean forward.

Their lips met, softly at first, almost tentatively.

Then Pam's tongue swiped over Tara's full bottom lip and Tara growled into her mouth before deepening the kiss, her sinewy frame shaking as she fought against the urge to snap down her fangs.

Fangs that wanted to mark, wanted to claim Pam as their own. They wanted to brand her, not with violence but with pleasure.

It was a deeply intimate act of primal possession Tara knew Pam wasn't ready for.

She slowed the kiss, tapering off the wet, carnal open-mouth assault of lips and tongue into soothing, butterfly brushes of full lips against full lips.

"I would wait an eternity for you," Tara whispered raggedly over Pam's mouth. She dropped a fleeting kiss then pulled back to look deep into turbulent pools of steel-blue and winter gray. "Should you wish it of me, I would walk out into the sun for you."

Pam reached behind Tara and rooted about her head for the thong that held Tara's ocean-kissed hair in a simple queue. Finding the knot, she undid it with expert fingers, allowing the vampire's hair to cascade down her back and over her shoulders like ebony silk.

"I'm not asking for eternity," Pam murmured as she tunneled careful fingers through that glorious mop of heavy supple silk, blue eyes enraptured by the ink-soaked tresses with its highlights of ocean blue and green. "I'm simply asking for a little more decorum and time."

Tara sighed and leaned into the soothing caress of Pam's fingers gently moving up to massage her scalp. "The former is easier said than done, my Princess. I'm not above jealousy. I can't be when it comes to you."

Pam pressed a kiss to a soft cheek, then another to the line of Tara's jaw. "Try. Please." She tilted her head, captured Tara's lips in a soft but lingering kiss. "For me," she added, whispering her plea against that sinful mouth.

"For you," Tara echoed softly, resignedly. She plucked the hand Pam had found purchase in her hair and lifted it to her lips. She pressed a kiss to the inside of the blonde's wrist. "Only for you," she repeated, voice barely audible.

"Thank you."

Pam brushed a last kiss to Tara's lips then turned and made her way back to the vanity, feeling the vampire's midnight gaze following her every move. She sat and picked up a hairbrush, intending to return some semblance of tidiness to her currently unruly flaxen locks when Tara was suddenly behind her, her close proximity and the way low levels of raw energy humming through the air, undeniable.

"Allow me."

Taking the brush from Pam's grasp, Tara took it upon herself to restore order to the disarray Pam's golden mane had gotten itself into.

The vampire was unfailingly gentle as she ran the brush slowly through thick waves of flaxen tresses, each stroke speaking of tenderness and care.

And when she was done, when she had turned that heavy supple mass of flaxen curls into soft silk that in the muted light looked like spun gold, Tara swept Pam's hair aside to expose her smooth alabaster neck.

Tara bent and pressed cool lips to snow-kissed skin, directly over a steadily beating pulse that tripped and quickened in tempo at her lingering kiss.

"Mine," Tara murmured lowly.

Pam shivered at the timber of Tara's voice.

There was as much warning as there was affection in the possessive declaration and though the openly unrepentant claim Tara just bestowed upon her was disquieting, Pam was startled to find that she wanted nothing more than to be Tara's.

She turned and fell into a pair of eyes that gleamed like black jewels.

"Say it again," Pam whispered as she stared deep into a midnight abyss that looked at her as though the moon and stars rose and set at her behest.

Tara lowered herself until she was at eye level with the blonde. She reached out, palmed an impossibly soft, warm cheek kissed by snow. "Mine," she repeated solemnly, resolutely. There was no hesitation, no doubt as she gazed into an endless ocean of pure, deep sapphire.

"You're mine."

**TBC**


	15. Helplessly, Hopelessly, Recklessly

**A/N** – My sincere apologies for the late update. It's been a bad week that rounded off with a mild family crisis that pretty much sent me tailspinning into a cocktail of some very unpleasant emotions. My woes aside, here's the new update. Thank you for those who left a review for the previous chapter. Oh, and the chapter title is taken from Jessica Andrew's song _Helplessly, Hopelessly, Recklessly_.

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**Chapter 15 – Helplessly, Hopelessly, Recklessly**

By the time Pam had been ready to retire for the night, the world outside had dissolved behind a blurry curtain of rain, San Francisco's landscape of undulating hills and slanting houses distorting into blobs and smears like a watercolor painting upset by a careless handling of a brush.

Now, the gentle clip clop of hooves had no choice but to play second fiddle to the staccato of pitter patter raindrops that sluiced down from an opaque sky, Mother Nature orchestrating a steady percussion of noise that drummed its steady beats onto the shingled rooftops, cobblestone streets and the roof of the carriage currently occupied by Pam and Tara.

How Tara managed to procure a carriage at such late an hour, her blonde companion had nary a clue but then, Tara was apt at confounding her at every turn.

The pair was silent as they sat in their respective seats inside the shadow-eaten carriage.

It was not an awkward silence but rather one crafted from two individuals comfortable enough to allow for such rare a luxury.

It was a companionable silence.

Pam gazed listlessly out into the rain, partly entranced by the workings of nature and partly lost in thought, her contemplations for the night floating her away in a sea of dreamy musings.

And Tara?

Tara watched Pam watch the rain.

The vampire had only paused once in her musings of Pam, eyes fashioned from mahogany following the trajectory of Prussian blue orbs, trying to glean what had her blonde companion enraptured so.

Tara had been able to appreciate how the world outside seemed to lose substance, its colors diluting, the images unfocused against a canvas engineered by shadow and night as the rain continued to fall.

However, as intriguing as the outside world was, currently strafed by bullets of unrelenting rain, Tara spared it but a mere glance before her dark eyes tracked immediately back to its quarry, the draw of visually exploring the landscape that was Pam's profile, impossible to resist.

Now, Tara took to quietly observing the brooding blonde, adumbral eyes unobtrusive but hopelessly mesmerized as they locked onto a hiemal profile, unashamedly tracing every slope, hollow and curve. In the dark of the carriage, Pam was mostly shrouded in shadow, her lithe frame only flaring with sudden pinpricks of light as weak spills of moonshine struggled through the thick sheets of rain and past the window frame.

The vampire released an inaudible sigh as Pam shifted slightly, pressing herself closer to the window, cerulean blue eyes consumed by a faraway if content expression as its owner took in the manner in which the rain sluiced down from a caliginous sky dotted with the barest hints of diamond stars.

Another wistful, helpless sigh whispered past full dark pink lips as midnight kissed eyes drifted downwards to observe Pam's crimson painted mouth. Tara watched, enthralled, as tumid flesh parted to allow a lone exhale to escape, full lips pouting slightly in the midst of this perfectly natural act.

It was an innocent gesture, nothing more than an instinctive undertaking really, but at that moment, Tara was convinced that she had never seen such an arousing presentation.

The vampire had no wish to disturb Pam's gentle musings, to interrupt whatever fancies that spirited the blonde's attention from the dark of the carriage to places unknown.

However, Tara found, that in that moment, sitting in a carriage next to Pam, the lack of a tactile link to the blonde was proving difficult to bear.

And so, she reached out with a beautifully sculpted arm kissed by earthy hues, to alight one lone finger atop a porcelain hand that rested comfortably on the leather seat of the carriage.

Tara's touch was gentle, feather-light. She used her fingertip to run a delicate course down the back of Pam's hand until she reached he hems of the blonde's sleeve. Then, she retraced her steps, dragging her finger back up until they touched upon a manicured nail.

The gentle caress of Tara's cool finger sent pleasurable shivers scampering up Pam's arm and she turned in response, suddenly needing to find lodging in a pair of dark eyes that never failed to look at her with anything less than complete awe and utter devotion.

She fell into them now, twin pools of obsidian that gazed her both softly and intensely, Tara very effectively managing without words, to convey how much she treasured the woman sitting next to her.

"Something on your mind?" Pam murmured as she shifted unconsciously closer, her mind suddenly unable to contemplate how a small chasm, however slight, had managed to open up between them.

Tara smiled and it was a soft, reverent smile made up of enchantment, one only the blonde ever saw.

"Just you," the vampire whispered. She reached up, alighted her fingers on the plane of a soft, smooth cheek that was deliciously warm against her own cool flesh. "Only you," added as she stroked affection onto alabaster skin. "_Always_ you," she finished, her voice no more than a dreamy sigh as her thumb extended upwards to caress a prominent cheekbone.

Pam felt her eyes sting, both at her dark savior's words and the way Tara had taken to caressing her face as though she were a priceless artifact. There was such tender care in the vampire's touch, such unrepentant veneration and as she gazed deep into twin wells of ink and midnight, she saw those very same elements reflecting unapologetically back at her.

The blonde turned and pressed a kiss to the inside of Tara's palm, letting her lips linger against cool flesh until she felt a tremor race up those fingers of midnight.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Pam requested, her cadence slipping into one of British refinement as her emotions grew potent, Tara's fingers stoking them from glowing embers to a warm flame.

Tara bestowed upon Pam a besotted smile, eyes softening as the blonde nuzzled into her hand.

"I was thinking that I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity observing your beauty," Tara freely admitted, her stalwart Southern lilt suddenly rich with huskiness as Pam's eyes fluttered enticingly with each stroke of her fingers. "The way the azure storm of your eyes would fracture and dissolve into a thousand shades of blue and gray as it tries valiantly to express the song your emotions currently sing." She ran a finger down the line of a delicate jaw, marveling at the flawlessness she found. "The manner in which your lips would part and swell with every breath you take." She ran her thumb over the tumid flesh of Pam's bottom lip, eliciting a shiver.

"And the way you look at me in turn," Tara finished, her voice nary above a hushed whisper. She pressed a hand to Pam's cheek, urging her to turn her head slightly, a smitten smile curling the edges of her lips as the blonde graced her with a sapphire blue stare. "Your expression when you set your sights on me, Pamela. It sets me aflame, breaths warmth into my soul and a beat into my heart." The vampire smiled tenderly. "When I come to call, you wear, with such flawless grace, the expression of an angel heaven sent."

A lone tear fell from a cerulean blue eye, dragging a damp path down a pale cheek.

Tara simply reached out and thumbed it away, replacing it with a soothing caress.

"Don't cry," the vampire murmured. "It breaks my heart to see you anointed with tears."

Pam sniffled but didn't respond. Instead, she reached up, plucked the vampire's hand from her cheek and brought it to her lips. She pressed a kiss to the inside of Tara's palm, indulging in the wild and earthy notes of musk, cloves and sandalwood.

And Tara sighed in response, feeling acutely, the love Pam was projecting into her by way of her lips.

"Angel..."

Pam looked up. "I'm sorry?"

Tara smiled dreamily and scooted closer, the small distance between them agonizing. She eased her hand from Pam's grasp, let its finger find purchase on a lock of flaxen hair deliberately let loose to frame an aristocratic face.

"Angel," the vampire repeated as she coiled that silky soft lock of corn silk hair around her finger, fascinated by the contrast of dark and light. "I find myself sitting in this carriage beside an angel with alabaster skin and sun-kissed hair." Tara's expression was wholly captivated as she stared openly at Pam. "You're my angel heaven sent."

Pam snorted around a heated blush that crawled up her neck and kissed her cheeks crimson. "I do believe you missed your calling, Ms. Thornton. Your affinity with words would have served you well as a poet."

"I'm afraid such bold a venture would have proven impossible before you," Tara murmured distractingly. She returned midnight dipped fingers to the side of Pam's face, caressing the soft, warm skin before dragging them down to the side of the blonde's neck that was regretfully covered by a pewter-blue scarf. "Before you, I lacked the necessary muse needed to partake in such an endeavor." She leaned forward, ghosted a kiss to Pam's cheek.

"You're my inspiration," she whispered softly into a pale ear, immediately eliciting a shiver. "You've breathed color into my world of endless night, added the sweetest lyrics to my haunting melody." Another kiss, this time to a warm temple that throbbed lightly with blood. "You are my perfect fit."

Two more tears fell at the admission, clouding the sapphire of Pam's eyes before they brimmed over pale lashes and onto pale cheeks.

Tara merely kissed them away, her lips feathering love and care every time they grazed Pam's face.

"May I call you angel?" she asked sweetly.

Pam swallowed a sob and too overwhelmed by the simple request simply nodded before she allowed herself to fall into the strong cradle of the vampire's arms.

Tara caught her easily, nimbly, sculpted arms winding themselves protectively, gently around a trim waist. She shifted backwards, sliding along the leather seat until her back was pressed against the side of the carriage and Pam was flush against her front.

"My beautiful angel," Tara murmured into wheat-colored hair. She nuzzled her nose into the sweet-smelling strands, seeking that unique and powerfully feminine bouquet of lavender and honeysuckle. When that melancholic strand of vanilla unfurled around her senses, she sighed happily and pulled Pam closer to her, savoring the blonde's warmth.

The pair remained entwined in each other's arms, silence crooning a soothing lullaby that lulled vampire and human into a quiescent state.

It was only when Pam brushed her lips softly to the hollow of Tara's throat that the vampire stirred.

Tara looked down, immediately running into a pair of eyes that in the dark of the carriage, were a brilliant, vivid blue, its color impossibly haunting.

Tara ran her knuckles down the side of her blonde companion's cheek, heart clenching when Pam's lids immediately hooded and she leaned instinctively into her touch.

"Pamela?"

"Yes?"

"Would you honor me with a kiss?"

Pam straightened a little at this, enough so that they were at eye level with each other. She reached up, cupped the side of Tara's face and leaned in.

When two sets of full lips, one dark pink, the other painted crimson, touched, twin sighs escaped from both parties. It drifted into the air, coalesced into a heady whisper then dissipated.

Pam smiled against Tara's mouth, loving how easily the vampire reacted, responded to her. "Are you honored?"

"Humbly so."

Pam hummed a reply then initiated a second kiss, applying a gentle pressure that firmed until the vampire's body quaked beneath hers.

When the blonde pulled back she found herself looking into a pair of obsidian fashioned eyes that thirsted for her.

Hungered for her.

She was not vampire, was not as in tune to the primitive calling that made up a dormant part of her soul, but having produced from Tara's eyes, such a wild and raw expression, soothed and appeased something within her.

Something as feral and untamed as Tara's beast.

Tara observed firsthand, the different expressions that flitted across those wintry features as Pam succumbed to a base desire that all creatures, vampire, human or otherwise, coveted.

Possession.

Dark full lips quirked, a lazy sensual smile that tugged almost playfully at the corners of Tara's lips as she watched Pam, without quite knowing what she was seeking or doing, lay claim on the vampire with just her eyes alone.

The smile on Tara's face grew. It was a smile that was all satisfied heat and languor.

The vampire reached up, traced the sensuous arc that was the lush cut of Pam's mouth. These lips were forever her undoing. A simple brush of this tumid flesh against her own was enough to bring her to her knees and though the thought of someone holding such power over her should have made the beast within Tara howl in resentment, it didn't

Instead, both parts of Tara, human and beast, relished such primal a claim from Pam. She was willing to allow the blonde to send her corkscrewing into a mad, timeless oblivion with a kiss, eager to let Pam render her useless and brain addled as the blonde sipped at her mouth, teasing her with her blunt teeth and wicked tongue.

It was torture of the most pleasurable kind.

Tara leaned in and feathered a kiss to the corner of Pam's mouth, drawing from the blonde a visible shudder. Then, she ducked her head and buried it in the nook of the Pam's neck, a contented sound that was halfway between a purr and a growl, spilling from her lips as she nuzzled away at the scarf only to graze her nose at the indention of a pale throat, directly over an erratic pulse point that tripped and stuttered at her indulgent touch.

Pam shivered as Tara nosed at her neck, taking deep pulls of her scent. The atmosphere in the carriage was suddenly thick with power, Tara's indomitable energy oozing off of her in waves. The vampire's aura was all heat and need and desire as she drew greedy breaths of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla, spinning a sensual web around the pair.

And caught in the middle of this heated storm of sensuality and reckless hunger was Pam, who was all too willing to be captured, to fall prey to Tara's hungry, thirsty gaze.

"Tara..."

The vampire looked up at the sound of her name. When dark lids pulled back, they revealed a pair of ink-soaked orbs that gazed at Pam with a look that procured a most delicious quiver.

In those fathomless eyes of midnight, Pam saw passion. Passion and desire.

But what made flash fires of want and need to go sparking up her arms was the dark and primal expression she could see simmering behind a thin veneer of civility.

It was an expression that quite bluntly informed Pam that she was Tara's.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

Irreversibly.

The blonde shivered as Tara's power spiked, humming like a live current through the air and burning lightly across her skin. It amplified the vampire's scent, the heady alchemy of musk, cloves and sandalwood ratcheting up to such a degree that Pam was almost lightheaded from the wild, earthy fragrance.

She pressed closer to her dark savior.

"Kiss me, Tara."

It was a desperate plea, one that almost emerged as a needy sob as Pam felt something within her break. She ached for the vampire so urgently, so greatly that it both petrified her and aroused her to painful degrees.

Tara growled and did as bade, leaning forward to capture full lips that were soft, pliant and hungry against her own. She loosened just a little bit of her control, enough to give the beast within her a lick of satisfaction that would erase the hurt and agony that had transpired in the early evening.

The vampire claimed Pam's mouth in a manner that bordered on demanding. She devoured that sweet flesh, the tip of her tongue teasing the seams of crimson painted lips until they parted. Then, she delved into the warm cavern of Pam's mouth, her tongue tasting every corner, marking every nook and cranny as hers.

And when Tara could no longer ignore the screaming of her fangs, of the way they exploded arias of pain down her gums, she ripped her mouth from Pam's, barely managing to miss nicking that tumid flesh as her fangs dropped with a vicious, triumphant click.

Tara turned and buried her face in a whorl of shadow, fists clenching, breathing ragged and her body quivering like a plucked string.

Pam waited in turn, one pale hand alighting longer fingers of alabaster onto a tense cheek, stroking soothing lines until the muscle in Tara's jaw stopped ticking and the vampire's body sagged slightly beneath her own as the subtle snick of fangs retreating back into their sheaths echoed through the carriage.

When Tara had finally gotten her baser desires under control, finally called her beast to heel, she turned back to look at Pam.

Every ounce of her had slipped back into civility. It was only Tara's eyes that refused to relent its hold on the vampire's blatant carnal need.

The fervent heat of the vampire's gaze shot through the blonde's entire being, causing feminine parts of her to clench and immediately dampen.

Dark nostrils flared at this new development, a low, wanton growl pouring forth from dark pink lips as the small confinement of the carriage magnified the scent of Pam's arousal to an almost maddening level.

Tara had never been more grateful for the driver's impeccable timing as the carriage rolled to a clumsy stop.

The vampire untangled herself from Pam, pausing only once to tuck two fingers under the blonde's chin, lifting it so that their mouths touched.

Then, she was gone, almost throwing the carriage door off its hinges in her haste for fresh air not sprinkled liberally with the scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla tinged arousal.

Momentarily stunned by the vampire's abrupt exit, Pam remained locked in a state of somewhat bewildered paralysis in the carriage. It was only when the squeaky creaks of the retractable carriage steps burst into the air that the blonde roused herself.

Lithe frame hunching slightly, the blonde emerged from the carriage noticing that the rain had quelled to a light drizzle. She reached out and automatically slipped her hand into a dark one that was abeyant and patient as it waited for its pale companion.

Tara guided Pam down the steps, expression somewhat sheepish as Pam settled a blue gaze on her.

Pam smiled softly at the contrite look and when she was safely on the ground next to Tara, she leaned in and kissed the vampire's cheek.

Tara sighed as a warm breath caressed her cool skin. She took advantage of their linked hands and brought it up to her lips to bestow a kiss upon pale knuckles.

"I bid you a good night and sweet dreams, Pamela," the vampire murmured. She ran her thumb over the back of Pam's hand, ghosted another kiss to warm flesh and was about to release the blonde's hand when snow-kissed fingers tightened around her own.

"Send the driver on his way, Tara."

The vampire cocked her head, curiosity aiding the act. However, she did as bade, not even hesitating once to question Pam's motives as she made her way over to the driver to relay the message.

A brief exchange of currency along with the required pleasantries was made before the driver tipped his hat at Tara. Then, with a sharp flick of the reins, the carriage rolled forward, its horses billowing plumes of condensation into the fog-drenched air.

Tara spared the carriage but a glance before she turned and made her way back to Pam. The blonde was encased in fog eerie fingers of ghostly white contorting around her lithe frame, the light rain dewing the blonde's sun-lit hair like a mantilla of teardrop diamonds.

"What would you have of me, Pamela?"

Pam held out a hand in response and Tara took it, allowing her blonde companion to pull her forward until she was standing in front of her.

Pam cradled Tara's hand in hers, running her thumb over cool, soft skin. She looked into Tara's eyes, eyes that glowed like black jewels set aflame. They were filled with such warmth and naked affection that it tugged at her soul, made her heart pick up in tempo.

Tara regarded Pam in turn, mesmerized as always by the mercurial nature of those alluring blue eyes. Unable to resist, she leaned forward and stole a kiss, lingering long enough to siphon some of that tantalizing warmth into her cool flesh.

Pam quivered; Tara's lips igniting fires within her that she knew could never fully be quenched. "I want..."

"What do you want, Pamela?" Tara cut in immediately. She reached up and brushed loose wisps of golden-blonde hair off Pam's forehead. "Tell me and it shall be yours."

"I want you to come inside."

Tara froze, her hand in a state of animated suspension as they lingered on the side of Pam's face, dark fingers barely grazing over a lock of flaxen hair.

Fathomless pools of midnight locked onto a gaze comprised of sapphire and summer sky.

Tara's mouth opened, her jaw worked furiously but words, for once failed her.

Pam smiled gently, reached up to grasp the hand dangling by her cheek and linked pale fingers around ebony ones. She tugged, her insistent actions and gravity propelling Tara forward and up the stairs until the pair were sequestered on the top step.

Without releasing Tara's hand, Pam reached into a jacket pocket and fished out her keys. Unlocking the door, she let it yawn open, revealing a darkened hallway.

"Come..."

"Tell me you love me again," Tara interrupted.

Pam turned, startled at the unexpected request. Her heart seized when she caught the vulnerability in Tara's eyes, the uncertainty smudging a visible stain across the vampire's immortal features.

Azure blue eyes brimmed over with tears at the sight.

"Tell me," the vampire repeated. The request was so sincere, so softly spoken, so _wanting_ that it was all Pam could do not to let her tears find purchase on her cheeks.

Instead, she pocketed her keys, reached up with both hands and cupped either side of Tara's face.

She place one kiss, just one, to full dark pink lips.

Then, she pulled back, enough to allow her sapphire gaze to find temporary residence on a pair of orbs soaked in India ink.

"I love you," she began in canorous whisper, her cadence slipping from an American drawl to a softer, more refined lilt, causing the vampire's eyes to instantly soften. "I love you like the stars are meant to love the night sky. I love you like the leaves are meant to love the tree on which its branches sit. I love you like the clouds are meant to love the rain it releases from its womb. I love you like a mountain top is meant to love the kiss of snow."

Pam shifted forward until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. "I love you, Tara, because I know no other way."

Tara blinked. Rapidly. Her eyes were smarting in wake of Pam's eloquently crafted words, her unbeating heart clenching in the most painful manner behind her ribs. She took advantage of the close proximity of their lips, claiming Pam's in a manner that bespoke of desire, possession, gentleness and care.

And when their lips parted, Tara looked at Pam in wonder, looked at her as though the blonde had just handed the world to her on a silver platter.

"Are you sure?"

Pam smiled, touched her fingers to her dark savior's cheek and through a breathless whisper said:

"Come inside, Tara."

**TBC**


	16. Stay With Me Till The Morning

**A/N** – Thanks to everyone who read and those who read and left a review. FYI, for this chapter, flashback scenes are in Italics. Also, the title of this chapter is taken from Dana Winner's _Stay With Me Till The Morning_. It was purely accidental that I found this song but it inspired this chapter with its sweet if melancholic tune. You can find the song on YouTube if you're curious. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 16 – Stay With Me Till The Morning**

The salty tang of loneliness was heavy on Tara's tongue as she closed Pam's window with a soft snick.

For a moment, she simply remained in a state of animated suspension in the air, her prowess as a vampire of almost two millennia allowing for a such a seemingly impossible feat.

She hovered, staring through the condensation smeared window with dark eyes that were irreversibly mournful.

Sorrow encased her like a cloak, billowing around her sinewy frame and disturbing the thick fingers of fog that bobbled in the air.

She hovered.

And she stared.

She stared until she could feel the dissolving of the night at her back, like a cautionary tingle at the base of her spine, urging her to take shelter.

Tara sighed and it was a tristful sound, etched with a yearning that was marrow deep.

Pressing a palm to the window pane, Tara cast one last longing look into the bedroom of her mate, her heart aching in a manner that rimmed her eyes crimson.

"Sweetest dreams, my angel."

It was the vampire's last parting note before she forced herself away.

Tara descended, her body defying every law pertaining to gravity as she floated down to the sidewalk, weightless and graceful as a leaf skimming the waves of a gentle breeze.

She landed, button up boots of a polished black making not a sound as it found footing on the cobblestoned ground.

Tara looked back up immediately, scarcely able to make out the window through the atmosphere of fog and mist.

The distance she had just put between her and Pam was proving to be a spike in her heart.

It was almost unbearable. Crippling.

The appetency to return into Pam's bedroom, to crawl back into the warmth of those deceptively strong arms was so overwhelming that Tara found herself hovering off the sidewalk before she could conceive of having engineered such an act.

She forced herself to ground.

And found her vision sluicing over with crimson.

Tara drew in a ragged breath, staggered by the heavy weight of her aching heart.

There was such desperate yearning graven onto the immortal features of Tara's face, such unrepentant need that had she be granted with an audience, surely they would have wept at being confronted with such a harrowing expression.

Tara clenched her jaw in a pitiful attempt to stave off the onslaught of emotions hellbent on shredding her from the inside out.

Leaving the warmth of Pam's bed had proven to be the hardest thing she had ever done. In well over a millennia, the vampire had never once faced an encounter such as the one she had endured tonight.

Extracting herself from the circle of Pam's arms had been excruciating, every step she took away from the drowsing blonde renting a deep groove onto her heart. Grooves that wept crimson and spat pain into her blood.

The memory of such tormenting a departure still too fresh in her mind, Tara allowed a blood tear to fall.

She remained rooted to where she stood, unable or perhaps, unwilling to move.

In wake of the coming dawn, the night was at its darkest, shadows eating up the sides of the rows of houses running down either side of Pam's own abode. Fog hung in the air, thick, damp and tangible, laden with fine mist of residual rain.

It shrouded Tara, conformed to a sinewy frame attired in a high collared white shirt, black tie, black brocade waistcoat and a simple frock coat.

The vampire held her derby hat in her hand, her hair of ink-soaked tresses loose, spilling down her shoulders and back like black silk.

She continued to stare, unable, unwilling to part her eyes from the window above.

Another tear fell, a perfect teardrop that clung to her cheek like a lone ruby.

Dark eyes were glazed with crimson, their expression hazy with memories recently developed.

Tara stared up at the window.

She stared.

And she reminisced.

xxxxxxxx

_Pam stepped through the threshold, one arm extending out behind her in an attempt to use the manner in which snow-kissed fingers tangled around midnight-hued ones to tug the flummoxed vampire inside._

_However, where Pam moved, Tara didn't. Couldn't. _

_Still dumbfounded by the blonde's intimate gift of unfailing trust, Tara remained paralyzed on the doorstep, her lack of movement effectively disconnecting the vital link of the pair's entwined fingers._

_Pam turned in response, pivoting just in time to see the vampire's arm flop uselessly back to her side._

_It was the only form of motion Tara's body displayed, the rest of her sinewy frame frozen as though the vampire had lost access to her basic motor skills._

_Pam observed Tara quietly from where she stood in the hallway, encased in shadow. She allowed the vampire her moment, allowed her to come to terms with what had just transpired between them._

_She was patient._

_Eyes fashioned from winter ice watched as Tara regarded the thin sliver of space that separated Pam's home from the outside world. Realization filled these orbs of vivid, enrapturing blue as its owner was suddenly in possession of the knowledge of how significant a moment this was for Tara. _

_Though she could not quite understand nor compute the extent to which Tara valued the importance of such an occasion, Pam was still able to comprehend that she had just bestowed Tara with a substantial gift._

_And it was a gift Pam wanted Tara to accept wholeheartedly. _

_So, she held out an imploring hand. "Come inside, Tara," she beseeched in a quiet tone, unwilling to allow her voice to rise above a controlled whisper lest she spoil the weighty atmosphere that had taken to blanketing human and vampire. Smalt hued eyes were gentle, asking, as they sought for their mates of dark obsidian._

"_Please."_

_One word. _

_Spoken like a whisper in the wind._

_It was enough to break Tara out of her stupor, enough to rouse her, tether her back to reality, back to Pam._

_Dark eyes locked onto glaucous blue._

_Pam graced Tara with a smile. "Come and let me hold you, Tara."_

_Tara's heart threatened to burst at the simple request. Forever unable to deny Pam anything, she stepped inside, a shudder rippling through her as she crossed the threshold without consequence. _

_She closed the door behind her, indulged on finally being on the other side of this object fashioned from solid wood for the merest of seconds. _

_Then, she turned and took Pam's proffered hand. Tangling their fingers once again, Tara allowed Pam to draw her into the warm circle of her arms, sighing when their bodies connected and the aroma of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla coiled around her, infusing her with the sensation of comfort. Of home._

"_Welcome to my humble abode, Ms. Thornton," Pam murmured into a dusky ear. She ran a soothing hand down Tara's back, pressed a lingering kiss to a soft, cool cheek, then pulled back. _

"_May I take your coat?" she asked courteously as she flipped a switch on the wall, causing the hallway light on the ceiling to flare to life and shadows to retreat into the darker corners untouched by the light's auric glow._

_Tara smiled, reached out and ran her knuckles down the plane of an impossibly smooth porcelain cheek, sighing in a dreamy fashion as Pam's warmth kissed her cool flesh. "Ladies first," she whispered. "Turn around, Princess."_

_Pam rolled her eyes, her inner English girl threatening to seize control of her tongue in order to engineer a witty retort at Tara's reply. However, she curbed her more mischievous yearnings and turned as requested, sighing in turn when strong cool hands alighted on her shoulders, limber fingers of ebony reaching for the lapels of her coat. _

_Tara assisted Pam out of her outer attire, dragging it gently down the blonde's arms and revealing an embroidered cream colored blouse. _

_She turned, hung the garment on one of the many coat hooks adorning the wall on her left then pressed herself up against Pam's back._

"_Now your scarf," she husked, deliberately dropping her voice to a lower register if only to produce a shiver._

_Satisfaction drew a smug line across the fullness of her lips as Pam quivered against her. _

_Tara swept aside thick waves of corn silk hair held loosely together by a clip, pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow behind a pale ear. She snaked her arms over Pam's shoulders and down to the front of her neck where the knot of the scarf lay, nestled between an ample bosom._

_She swiftly undid it, slid the scarf off Pam and hung it next to her coat._

_Then, she stepped back and set about shucking off her own frock coat with ease, dark eyes easily finding pools of Prussian blue as Pam pivoted once more to face her. _

"_Might I have the privilege of a tour?" Tara inquired cordially as she deposited her coat on a hook._

"_Oh, if we must," Pam drawled, nonchalance and feigned exasperation coloring her tone. The sardonic presentation was ruined however, by the twinkle in her eyes, a genuine spark of pleasure and joy that suffused warmth into Tara's soul._

_Tara would gladly harrow hell to procure such a carefree expression from Pam's face._

"_I'm afraid we must," Tara bantered right back, shooting Pam that half-smile, half-smirk that was all shades of charming and just a little arrogant. _

_The vampire reached for Pam's hand, expertly, if playfully entwined their fingers and then tugged in a manner that was decidedly childish. _

"_Come on," Tara requested, voice set at a deliberate whine. "I want to see __**everything**__."_

_Pam huffed an amused laugh as Tara set about almost dragging her towards the nearest room, like a child pulling impatiently at their mother's hand._

_She let the vampire lead them into the sitting room, let Tara guide them at a leisurely amble around the various pieces of furniture that outfitted the modest space._

_To label the room Spartan was to bring great insult to it but neither was Pam's sitting room a devout representation of homeliness and comfort. _

_There were the usual fireplace paraphernalia sitting sentinel by the grate, the settees and armchairs that revolved around a plain but tasteful low table. There was even a chaise lounge positioned in front of the fire but though the room should have emitted a sense of having been lived in, there was something amiss, something that bespoke of impersonality._

"_You don't like it."_

_It wasn't a question and neither did the statement come with the harsh ring of censure but Tara turned immediately, dark eyes colliding with orbs of cerulean blue that in the dim lighting, glowed like twin blue flames._

"_It's not that," the vampire began, tentativeness grating against her Southern drawl as she tried to verbalize her thoughts. Tara had never lied to Pam, never once allowed falsehood to fall from her lips and onto Pam's ears. _

_And she wasn't about to begin now._

"_It's just…it's missing…__**you**__," Tara finally confessed. She guided them to the chaise lounge with its intricate carvings, possibly the only stick of furniture that really offered the vampire a glimpse of Pam._

_She skimmed a curious hand over the soft upholstery, picking up the faintest strands of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla. _

_Upon such an admission, Tara finally gleaned what had unsettled her about the sitting room. It was practical, furnished with pieces necessary for a room of its name but it lacked a personal touch. _

_It was as though Pam had deliberately gone to great restrains to keep it clinical, offering what guests privileged enough to visit brief snatches of her character, fleeting glimpses of who she was before the other more customary furniture pieces dominated. Fragments of Pam were evident in the chaise lounge, evident in the lone bookcase stacked by the far end of the wall near the window. _

_Everything else was simply there because such a room required it._

"_I don't spend much time in here," Pam revealed quietly, deliberately avoiding Tara's eyes._

_Tara didn't push._

_She simply sidled closer, pressed a kiss to a warm cheek and murmured, "Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?"_

_Feathering another kiss to the line of a delicate jaw, Tara paused only to nuzzle her nose into the side of Pam's neck before she guided them back out into the hallway._

"_What's down there?" _

"_The study," Pam responded quietly. "And the kitchen. The study doubles as a library," she added, quivering slightly when Tara pressed an almost absentminded kiss to the corner of her mouth._

_Tara took a moment to establish an intimate connection with their mouths, having felt Pam's mood dip into more maudlin waters. She stroked love and tenderness onto a shockingly smooth soft cheek, sipped gently the sweetness from Pam's lips then concluded the brief intimate interlude by murmuring a litany of sweet nothings into a pale ear that immediately flushed scarlet as Tara's words called forth a blush._

_Satisfied that her blonde companion had been swept of her more morose musings, Tara then led them towards the room that was Pam's study and library. She pushed open the door, revealing a solid mahogany desk with a chair sequestered in front of a curtained window, various writing implements running a course along the top._

_A small ginger jar table lamp sat sentinel by the corner of the desk and the walls were adorned with shelves filled to bursting with books._

"_I see you in here," Tara observed, turning to bestow Pam a gentle smile. She reached out, thumbed the blonde's full lower lip then gently caressed a snow-kissed cheek. "I quite imagine you sitting behind the desk, mind lost to the latest pages of a novel, your eyes distant but content as the author of the words you read bespells you with a tale of grand adventure."_

"_Yes. It's my favorite room of the house."_

_The slightly bitter, if resigned tone informed Tara exactly why._

_Sitting rooms were for entertainment, company. Studies were for solitude._

_Clearly Pam's profession had limited her of amicable companions. Nobody wanted to enter the domain of a whore, however sophisticated._

_Tara fashioned a quick series of steps that put her directly in front of Pam. She cupped the blonde's jaw, leaned in and kissed Pam, softly, gently, lovingly._

"_I'm here now.," she husked against that sweet mouth. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_Pam's eyes curtained over with tears at the declaration. She leaned into Tara's touch released a shaky exhale as the vampire wrapped comfort around her via her palpable energy. "Stay tonight," she entreated suddenly, voice choked with emotion._

_Tara's eyes widened a fraction. She dropped her hand from Pam's cheek. "Pamela..."_

"_Please?" _

_Pam's voice was almost hoarse with tears, emotions overwhelming her as the thought of being parted from Tara threatened to blacken her soul and reduce her heart to ashes. _

_Tara gulped. "I..."_

"_Stay with me till the morning, Tara," Pam implored softly. She turned, kissed the inside of the palm Tara let rest against the side of her face. "Stay. Please?"_

"_It is improper to visit a lady's sleeping quarters at such late an hour," the vampire protested feebly as Pam took it upon herself to lead them out of the study and back out into the hallway where a set of stairs ascended up to the second floor._

"_Would you rather I sojourn in the sitting room instead?"_

"_Of course not!" Tara countered at once, looking affronted at the very thought._

_Pam chortled lowly under her breath, Tara's indignant expression providing a brief reprieve of amusement._

_Then, her expression sobered, becoming mournful almost as she sought for eyes that were kissed by the deepest of nights._

"_Tara," she whispered in a manner that instantly garnered the vampire's attention. "I want you to hold me while I sleep."_

_Tara felt her heart seize at the simple yet unfailingly intimate request. Knowing that she did not possess the ability or strength to deny Pam, she took a step towards the blonde, reached out and played her fingers softly, reverently down a warm cheek. "It would be the greatest honor," she whispered lovingly. "I should like nothing more than to cradle you in my arms as Orpheus croons you a lullaby."_

_Crimson lips arced, a soft smile playing across Pam's face. She leaned forward, pressed one kiss to dark pink lips._

"_Come upstairs."_

_xxxxxxxx_

_Tara took it upon herself to stoke the fire that would breathe warmth into Pam's bedroom whilst the blonde went about her nightly abulations. _

_The vampire has just taken to kneeling by the fireplace, now with a merry fire crackling in its grate and was prodding at the kindling with a poker when Pam reentered the room._

"_Tara."_

_The vampire stood at the sound of her name. She replaced the poker back into its holder but didn't turn around. _

"_Why won't you look at me?" Pam inquired curiously as bent to pull back the covers._

_Tara shuddered as her sensitive ears picked up the rustle of linen. "I am affording you the respect you deserve," she informed Pam quietly. "Until you are safely ensconced beneath the sheets, I find myself loathing to move."_

_Pam chuckled at this, rather entertained by Tara's more antiquated approaches towards her modesty. However, she did as bade, crawling under warm sheets and rearranging herself beneath the covers._

_Then, she beckoned Tara again._

"_You can turn around Tara. Unless you feel you are still consumed by the irrational fear that the sight of me in my nightly attire would set off a bout of vision impairment."_

_Tara pivoted but kept her eyes averted, the crush of soft cotton beneath Pam's lithe frame still tantalizing her ears._

_The beast within her stirred, desire sluggishly rousing to life in her veins as she caught a glimpse of the blonde concealed beneath the thick covers adorning the bed._

_A bed that was clearly an indulgence befitting of Pam._

_Pam's bed was an opulent four poster canopy bed, its frame constructed of rosewood of a rich dark reddish-brown hue. It boasted a floral and spindled headboard, spiraled posts, a slightly protruding canopy and seductive crimson drapes, currently pulled back._

_It made for an instantly arresting sight and Tara fought against the urge to clench her legs together as the intimate space at the apex of her thighs began to dampen and ache._

_Pam's brow furrowed when Tara remained rooted in front of the fire, her sinewy frame alit with alluring if contrasting strokes of light and shadow. The vampire was seemingly lost in thought, her head bowed, face almost shrouded completely by her thick curtain of ink-soaked hair._

"_Tara?"_

_The vampire started at the sound of her name. She looked up, dark eyes immediately locking onto sapphire blue. _

_She smiled._

"_My apologies."_

_Tara progressed over to the bed, her gait reminding Pam of a predatory cat that had its prey in sights and was in no hurry to pounce._

_There was also a skittishness to Tara's movements. The closer she approached the bed, the more stilted her ambulation became, as though she were easing up towards a wary creature about to bolt._

_Pam watched, silent as Tara arrived at the bed's side. Blue eyes locked onto its quarry as Tara sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under the weight._

"_Is this arrangement proving too uncomfortable for you?" Pam asked, her tone quiet, the barest tinges of hurt smudging the overall cadence of her voice._

_Tara caught it though; that one faint note of hurt. _

_She caught it and she cursed herself for putting it there._

_The vampire lifted herself up onto the bed with the easy, flawless grace of a ballerina. She stayed atop the covers but scooted over so that her side was parallel to where Pam lay._

_Then, she extended an arm, wrapped it around Pam's shoulders and urged the blonde to lie against her._

"_I beg your forgiveness for my hesitancy, Pamela," Tara murmured as she tucked Pam gently against her, smoothing one hand down Pam's back. "However, given the unorthodox nature of our current situation, I find that I am not quite able to comprehend how best to conduct myself."_

_Pam sighed as Tara wiggled down a fraction, enough so that she was just shy of a complete recline. "You needn't be so chivalrous at every turn, Tara." She tucked her head beneath the vampire's chin, was rewarded when Tara ghosted a kiss to the top of her head. "After all, it is I who initiated such an event."_

_Tara smiled into Pam's hair. "Yes," she conceded. "I suppose you did."_

_The vampire pulled the covers more securely around Pam, a fond expression flitting across her face when Pam absentmindedly nuzzled at the cool flesh beneath her cheek. She gathered the blonde closer to her, one hand finding purchase on a mop of thick flaxen hair that felt like the smoothest silk. Carding her fingers gently through the sweet-smelling tresses, she began humming a tune, hoping to aid Orpheus as he came to sweep Pam asunder into the landscape of her dreams._

"_Would you regale me with a story?" _

_A softly spoken request. Constructed around a tired yawn._

_Tara's entire expression softened. She ran her knuckles down Pam's cheek, dragged a lone finger down the line of her jaw. _

"_Once, a long, long time ago, all people had four legs and two heads," Tara began, her voice a low deliberately drowsy murmur. "One day, in a fit of pique, the gods threw down thunderbolts and split everyone into two. Each half then had two legs and one head. But the separation left both sides with a desperate yearning to be reunited, because they each shared the same soul. And ever since then, all people, spend their lives searching for the other half of their soul."_

_Pam smiled sleepily, Tara's low alto along with the vampire's earthy and wild scent lulling her into that delicious cradle that suspended between sleep and consciousness. "And have you?" she whispered drowsily into dark flesh, voice barely audible as sleep began pulling her under. "Have you found the other half of your soul, Tara?"_

"_I have," Tara replied quietly. She bent, brushed a reverent kiss to Pam's forehead. "She is here, residing in the safety of my arms." Another kiss, this time to a warm temple. "After two millennia of walking the earth, you come to me, in a vision of snow and gold with eyes that rival the purest of sapphires." A third kiss, this time to a soft, smooth cheek._

"_I will cherish you until the end of days."_

_The pair didn't speak much after that, hushed conversations that were decidedly one-sided falling away to low murmurs as Pam eventually succumbed to maunder, her lithe frame languishing heavily against Tara._

_The vampire reacted by loosening every muscle. She molded herself as best she could to the topography of Pam's drowsing frame and gently guided a blonde head to rest comfortably, securely against her shoulder._

_Then, Tara simply held her._

_With the fire throwing elongated shadows suffused with a gentle warmth and Pam's euthermic heat beside her, Tara was lulled into a quiescent state that bespoke of complete and utter contentment._

_She cradled Pam lovingly to her, feathered intermittent kisses into a mop of sweet smelling hair and gently ran midnight-kissed fingers down the soft skin of Pam's arm._

_It was such a privilege to be able to hold Pam like this, to be granted access to such deep intimacy. _

_It spoke of trust, of faith. _

_Tara had no doubts that she would treasure this moment with Pam forever._

_xxxxxxxx_

"_Don't go."_

_The subconscious plea, made manifest by Tara slipping off the bed, instantly broke the vampire's heart._

_It wasn't intentional, wasn't designed to call forth a debilitating bout of sorrow but as those sleep-induced words fell unbidden from parted crimson lips, Tara felt her heart shatter._

_The vampire bent until she was kneeling at the side of the bed. She reached out, halted the absentmindedly wandering hand that tracked a clumsy expedition over the space she had previously occupied. Bringing it to her her lips, she feathered a kiss to its knuckles then tucked it gently against Pam's chest. She then moved her hand up, smoothed away the displeased furrow that drew a line between pale eyebrows then brushed an errant lock of flaxen hair off Pam's forehead. She leaned in and brushed a soft, tender kiss to a sleep-flushed cheek, letting her lips linger long enough to infuse Pam's scent onto her taste buds._

"_Pleasant dreams, Princess," she murmured, voice thick with love. "May Orpheus be kind to you as you canvas his landscape of wishes and hopes."_

_Running her knuckles down the side of Pam's cheek, she regarded the sleeping blonde with an expression that was equal parts fierce longing, undying love and painful regret._

_Then, she stood._

_The room was dark, the fire previously coloring the bedroom walls with an auric glow now quelled to a smear of glowing embers._

_Tara allowed herself one last glance at the woman that had conquered her heart and soul._

_Then, she prepared herself for the inevitable departure from Pam's home._

_xxxxxxxx_

Tara felt the pull of dawn as she stood, motionless on the sidewalk. She could feel it creep lethargy into her blood and instinctive wariness into her slumbering beast.

She needed to get home.

Rousing herself from her stupor, she glanced at the horizon.

Dawn had begun creeping its fiery fingers over the atrous sky, spreading its bold banners of red and gold slowly across a night sky so dark it was as though a bottle of ink had been upset over its star-studded canvas.

Tara grimaced and called forth the superior speed afforded to her as a vampire, her skin prickling with the beginnings of a burn, courtesy of the rising sun.

But still, despite the very real danger dawn was imposing on her, Tara couldn't help but look up once more.

Just once more.

Then, unable to ignore the frantic, panicked roar of her beast, the vampire broke into a run, moving at a speed that dissolved the lines of her body.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Tara's little bedtime story was taken from the Xena episode, Prometheus (S01E08). That story is taken from Aristophanes' Speech on Love from the Symposium. It's a story about the concept of soulmates. I thought it fitting for this story. But just letting you know that it does not belong to me; I'm simply borrowing it.


	17. Sappho's Song

**A/N** – Hello, again. My muse seems to be on tear because this chapter just flowed like water down a stream. Thanks for all those who read and those who read and left me a review. I personally really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope I managed to convey the emotions I felt when writing it for you guys. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 17 – Sappho's Song**

Pam's invitation had added a new dynamic, a new opportunity to the pair's nightly routine. Tara had taken to determinedly acquainting herself with the layout of Pam's home, etching into memory, where things went, what items frequently saw themselves in the blonde's presence and what did not.

It came as to no surprise to Pam that the kitchen was a great source of fascination for Tara. The vampire had taken to predictably observing with rapt attention how the room was occupied with crockery and cutlery implements, along with items to designed to cater to Pam's nourishment, items that whispered faint notes of their own unique scents from where they sat on their various shelves.

Unbeknownst to Pam, Tara had begun seeking culinary guidance from her housekeeper, Mrs. Brice. While the vampire still proved a pitiful student when it came to the cooking of foods, her lack of knowledge on how to operate a stove or oven usually resulting in burnt and charred dishes, she found that she had a natural affinity for the engineering of drinks.

Now, having been granted access into Pam's personal domain, her safe haven from the cruelties and instability of the outside world, Tara found that with each new night, she was able, from her now habitual wanderings of the blonde's home, to glean a little bit more of who her mate really was, to collect more pieces of the beautiful, enigmatic puzzle that was Pamela Swynford de Beaufort.

xxxxxxxx

Tara leaned casually against the doorjamb, dark eyes taking in the scene before her, a small smile playing about her lips.

Clad in a plain white shirt tucked haphazardly into loose tawny-colored work pants with suspenders hanging on either side of her, an unbutton tweed waistcoat framing her sinewy torso and her wind-tousled hair, the vampire looked as though she had just returned from a hard day's labor out on the fields.

Dark eyes were studiously observant as Tara lingered by the threshold to Pam's bedroom. They took in the cream crown moldings that ran along the borders between the walls and ceilings, the embossed bronze electrolier with its upturned branches hanging down from the middle of the ceiling and the russet and burgundy Persian rug sprawled across the floor at the foot of Pam's opulent four poster canopy bed.

Out of all the rooms in Pam's house, it was her sleeping quarters that bespoke of her personality and preferences.

It was evident in the elegant candle wall lamps placed strategically around the room, evident in the expansive carved satinwood and oak finish wardrobe with its double mirrored doors and numerous deep drawers.

Tara tracked a visual path to where her mate sat behind a solid mahogany dressing table with cabriole legs, and brass pulls on the drawer fronts.

Pam was sequestered on a padded velvet bench of deep crimson, its legs boasting ball and claw feet designs.

Obsidian eyes, nakedly smitten even in the dim glow of the room, met pools of azure through the triptych mirror bordered with an ornate brass frame of intricate carvings.

Pam smiled.

"I hope you left my kitchen in the same state it received you in," she murmured as she ran a brush though her ondoyant hair. "That was quite a discordant racket you were making. It would be in very poor form for you to so carelessly ruin a room that provides me with sustenance."

Tara snorted at the teasing reprimand. "Oh, ye of little faith," she grumbled good-naturedly as she pushed off from the doorjamb and began a leisurely prowl towards Pam, careful not to spill the contents of the cup she was balancing delicately in her hand.

She set the steaming beverage down in front of Pam, pressing a kiss to a warm temple along the way. "Your tea, my lady," Tara addressed cordially. "With a toddick of milk and honey."

"Thank you."

Tara smiled then reached out and plucked the hairbrush from Pam's grasp. She took over of brushing out the blonde's mane, gently running the brush down a thick mop of sun kissed hair, dark eyes intermittently, playfully meeting orbs of cerulean blue in the mirror as she went.

Pam sighed, lethargy whispering into her veins as Tara continued her gentle ministrations. She took a delicate sip of Chamomile tea, relished its warmth and flavor as it slid down her throat to heat her belly.

No words were exchanged between the pair as Tara continued to brush order into Pam's hair, the vampire absentmindedly humming a sweet berceuse under her breath. She was careful with each stroke she pulled down those sweet-smelling tresses, reverent as she periodically paused to sift her fingers through the supple silk.

Tara brushed patient strokes through Pam's hair until it spilled down the blonde's back like white wine, cascading over her high-necked cream and ivory night dress like spun gold.

Done, she replaced the hairbrush back onto the dressing table, then proceeded to twist that soft, silky mop of golden-blonde hair into a simple braid.

"Would you hand me that strip of ribbon, angel?"

Pam did as bade, shuffling backwards a fraction, if only to press herself up against the front of Tara's cool, muscled body.

"There," the vampire murmured as she completed the knot that would hold the braid in place. She bent, grazed a lingering kiss to the juncture between Pam's shoulder and neck. "As always, your eesome beauty knows no bounds, Pamela."

Pam blushed, crimson sweeping up her neck to kiss her cheeks. "Flatterer," she mumbled as she ducked her head, hiding a pleased smile in her cup of tea.

Tara's resounding grin was effulgent. She moved until she was standing at the side of the dressing table bench. Dropping to a knee, she reached out, palmed a soft, warm cheek, currently pink from her complimentary words.

"You are beautiful," the vampire husked, sincerity etching itself into each word. "Easily the most orchidaceous being my eyes has had the privilege of canvasing."

Pam set down her cup and saucer, leaned in and gently touched her lips to Tara's.

"I love you," she whispered against tumid, dark pink lips.

Tara's expression softened. "And I you," she replied in turn, her Southern drawl rich with devotion. "Our love is olamic, Pamela. It has been ordained by the gods. Our bond is unshakeable, unbreakable."

Pam kissed her dark savior again, a slow, sweet kiss that made them both burn.

"Shall we adjourn to the sitting room?" Tara inquired moments later, unnecessary breaths sawing raggedly in and out of her mouth, Pam's kisses so potent and intoxicating, the vampire acted as though she were under the throes of temulance after.

A fond smile flirted with kiss swollen lips.

Pam knew what Tara was doing when she had made that request.

She was honoring a promise made on the first night in Pam's house.

The blonde nodded and Tara stood, pausing only to fondly stroke Pam's cheek, adoration in every act. Then, the vampire held out a perfunctory hand, a besotted smile adorning the immortal features of her face when Pam readily slid her snow-kissed fingers against Tara's palm.

Pam allowed Tara to lead her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The pair disappeared into the sitting room where a merrily crackling fire gyrated in its grate, throwing off auric kissed shadows against the otherwise dark room.

Tara guided Pam towards the chaise lounge. She flopped down carelessly, garnering a displeased frown from her mate, which only resulted in the vampire bestowing upon Pam a rakish smirk.

Tara held out an inviting hand. "Come here to me, angel."

Pam shivered at the husky timber that had seized control of Tara's Southern lilt. She followed in Tara's wake but descended in a manner that was more polished and refined.

Cool arms twined around Pam as she eased into a recline, twin trunks of beautifully sculpted ebony half concealed by shirt sleeves that were rolled up past Tara's elbows.

The vampire sighed and sank back into the upholstery as Pam molded her body against her front, her blonde head tucking itself under a strong chin. It was a snug fit but they made do, the narrow confines of the furniture encouraging their bodies to naturally press closer to each other.

When Pam had settled, one hand finding purchase on the material of Tara's shirt, the vampire reached down and linked her hand with Pam's free one, fingers of ebony and ivory immediately tangling together, greeting the other with light caresses and gentle nudges.

Silence engulfed the pair as they simply soaked in the feel of each other, the fire dancing to a tune only it could hear, siphoning warmth into their bodies.

Tara nuzzled her cheek against Pam's soft hair, eyes half-mast as the blonde's powerfully feminine scent of lavender and honeysuckle twined around her senses, that lone, melancholic strand of vanilla chasing lazily after the other two aromatic notes.

The vampire had grown to not only love Pam's unique bouquet but depended on it. It soothed her, comforted her. It chased away the ennui that came with living for almost two millennia, quelled her sometimes irascible beast into docility.

Pam smiled as a purr rumbled out from Tara. Placing a hand on the vampire's chest, she allowed the vibrations to tickle her palm, the sensation oddly lulling.

Tara pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of Pam's head in turn, the blonde's warm palm on her chest even through the barrier of her shirt, branding her to the depths of her soul.

"Tara?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you always known?"

Tara cuddled Pam a little closer, moaning softly as the blonde's delicious heat siphoned into her more tepid frame. "Known what, Princess?"

"Your proclivity towards the fairer sex."

"Ah."

The vampire shifted, tilting her body slightly and angling her head in a manner that would allow her ink-soaked eyes to meet orbs of Prussian blue that were peering up at her, curiosity kindling in those wintry-blue depths.

"I cannot account for my human days but as a vampire, I have found myself to be an avid student of philogyny," Tara revealed freely. She caressed Pam's cheek, dark eyes going soft with affection as Pam leaned in to her touch, the act seemingly unconscious. "In all the centuries I have wandered this earth, the physical society of men is something I have never sought. And never will."

"I see."

Pam rubbed her cheek against a calloused palm, an indulgent smile arching the corners of lips as Tara stroked soothing lines down the side of her face.

"And what of you, my precious angel? Have you always heeded the call of Sappho?"

Pam blushed and bit at her lower lip. "I...I did discover my mulierose yearnings early in my youth, yes."

Tara's brows knitted slightly at the diplomatically vague answer. Obsidian fashioned eyes wandered down, seeking visual contact with their mates of ocean blue but Pam had taken to ducking her head, glaucous tinged eyes studiously observing the manner in which long, pale fingers played with the collar of Tara's shirt.

"And how far did these...yearnings lead you into the discovery of a woman's voluptuous curves?"

Pam blushed harder, sure Tara could feel the heat of her embarrassment from where cheek rested against a strong shoulder. She didn't answer, simply allowed the question to saturate the air like a lingering odor.

Tara looked down at the woman in her arms, feeling acutely how tense that lithe frame kissed by snow and blush had become. Curiosity getting the best of her, she voice aloud her nagging suspicions.

"Have you ever lain with a woman, Pamela?"

Tara's bluntly constructed question made Pam's cheek blaze so bright a red that she half feared her flesh would sear from the heat generated from her blush.

"If you are referring to having lain with a woman in the biblical sense, then no," Pam mumbled into the side of Tara's neck, mortified beyond belief. She didn't move from the cage of the vampire's arms though, trusting Tara not to use this new nugget knowledge to openly mock or berate her. "Not completely, anyway," she added under her breath, before burying her overheated face into cool, dark flesh, using Tara's cooler body temperature to ease away some of the warmth emanating from her cheeks.

Gifted with amplified senses, Tara's ears caught every syllable of her mate's confession and she arched an amused dark brow. "Not completely?" she teased gently as she gathered Pam closer to her, still able to feel the heat of the blonde's blush against her neck.

Pam blew out a disgruntled breath, somewhat unimpressed by Tara's amusement of her. She lifted her head, defiant and indignant blue eyes meeting a pair of midnight kissed orbs that twinkled down at her. "The process towards completion was interrupted in an untimely and mortifying fashion," she snapped peevishly.

"Ah." Tara smoothed a finger down the delicate line of a clenched jaw, stroking until Pam relaxed, her body sagging loosely back against her own. "I didn't mean to put your nose out of joint, Princess. I was just curious, is all."

"The poetry of Sappho is the only music that shall ever touch my heart," Pam spoke softly. "And though I have yet to fully play upon the instrument myself, I don't appreciate you second guessing my affections for you."

"I wasn't calling your affections towards me into question, Pamela," Tara reassured, mild exasperation but mostly amusement coating her tone. She adored Pam's bursts of temper, delighted in the strops the blonde would fall into, forever enchanted by the mercurial nature of Pam's moods.

When Pam huffed out another displeased breath, Tara kissed a warm temple in apology, letting her full lips linger if only to placate the blonde back to a more agreeable disposition. "There's no need to get shirty, angel. I was merely posing an inquiry. I simply wish to know you. _All_ of you," she added, voice dropping to a decidedly seductive register as she trailed her lips down to a pale ear.

Pam quivered against her, Tara's low alto skating starbursts of desire down her body to the intimate nook between her legs. Needing to retaliate, she grabbed a fistful of Tara's shirt, used it to pull the vampire down until they were at eye level.

Then, she kissed her.

Hungrily.

Passionately.

Wantonly.

Tara immediately moaned into Pam's mouth, one hand snaking up to cup the back of a blonde head. She growled when Pam brazenly slipped a thigh between her legs, not quite touching the suddenly aching and damp flesh at the apex of her thighs but lingering close enough that Tara could feel the warmth of her skin.

"Do you doubt my prowess to bring pleasure to the female form, Tara?" Pam husked seductively against full dark pink lips. She bit down on a tumid lower lip, her blunt teeth leaving a neat row of indentations in the flesh. "Do you think I'll disappoint you in bed?"

Tara groaned at Pam's bold words, desire pooling like warm oil in her belly. "I have no doubts you'll perform excellently when the time comes," she managed to pant out before her voice tapered off into a drawn out moan as the blonde dragged her lips down the side of her jaw, biting playfully at dark flesh as she went. "In fact, I'm sure the arresting presentation of you in all your gods given splendor, unburdened by sartorial barriers might very well bring about my true death."

Pam responded to Tara's impassionate divination by nipping sharply at the vampire's lower lip, procuring from Tara, a dangerous rumble, one born from the cradles of desire and need.

In a move too quick for the human eye, the vampire switched their positions, sandwiching Pam between her coiled body and the chaise lounge.

She hovered above Pam who wore an expression befitting to a cat who caught the canary.

"Do you feel the weight of my excite, Tara?" Pam rasped seductively, eyes hooding when Tara's fangs distended with a subtle click, its sharp tips protruding over her lower lip. "Can you _smell_ how excited my body is for you?"

"Don't stir," the vampire growled, eyes flashing with arousal. She bent, captured Pam's lips in a ferocious hungry kiss that was all sheer, blatant need, swallowing the blonde's heady moan when she grazed the sharp points of her fangs along the vulnerable flesh of Pam's lower lip.

"Endurance is a specialty of the female sex," Tara husked roughly a moment later, her voice constructed of nothing more than gravel and primal desire, skimming down Pam's suddenly oversensitive skin like velvet. "And I am vampire, Pamela," she added, voice this side shy of a growl. "I could make love to you until you were hoarse from pleasure, until your strength failed you, your limbs atrophied and your lungs burned with the mere act of drawing breath."

Power spiked through the air as Tara spoke, coagulating until the air was electric with desire and arousal, the vampire's indomitable energy of raw, wild, primitive power thickening the atmosphere to almost unbearable levels.

Tara leaned back down, fused her lips to Pam's, teasing, taunting her with mere suggestions of fang and tongue.

Pam shuddered when Tara gently dragged her sharp incisors over her lips, a velvet tongue following to sooth the faint echoes of hurt.

Soft sensuality over a dangerous hunger.

The blonde jumped then keened lowly when Tara dragged her lips down the column of her throat, the teasing graze of sharp fangs combined with the seductive press of cool lips against her warm skin making her ache in ways she didn't think possible.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you do to me?" A kiss followed this rhetorical question, Tara nipping carefully at the warm flesh kissed by snow, careful not to puncture skin. "You ruin me," she gritted out, her voice nothing more than a rough rasp, causing Pam's glaucous eyes to immediately dilate. "You have me on my knees, ready and willing to bow to your every whim." She pressed closer to Pam, until their bodies were flush against each other, reached down with one hand to clamp it firmly on a trim hip when the blonde attempted to buck into her.

Then, lifting her head from the enticing nook of Pam's neck, she locked caliginous eyes that burned with carnal need onto hooded orbs of vivid sapphire blue that were currently asunder with desire.

"I have conceived a passion solely for you and it has shredded me to pieces." Dark eyes burned like oil set to a match as they bore into a storm conceived from steely gray and winter blue. "You have ruined me, Pamela."

Pam whimpered as Tara surged forward once more, crashing her lips against hers and igniting fires within her that turned her blood molten. She reached up, buried snow-kissed fingers into the thick mop of midnight hair kissed by ocean blue and green tints, tugging intermittently with each carefully constructed bite Tara bestowed upon her lips.

Tara pressed Pam into the chaise lounge in response, her own sinewy frame wrecked with tremors. She growled deeply as Pam swiped her tongue over her elongated fangs, across the length of her full lower lip and plundered into her mouth to tangle with own. She kissed her mate harder, more desperately when Pam inched a warm hand under the collar of her shirt, long fingers teasingly plucking at the sleeveless undershirt she wore.

When Pam hooked her legs around Tara's and flipped them over, the vampire allowed it, gifting the blonde with the handle of control. She quaked in an almost violent fashion as Pam charted a disastrous path down the side of her neck with her lips, almost snarled when Pam unbuttoned more of her shirt, revealing smooth dark flesh and the lining of her undershirt.

Tara kept one hand to her side, fist clenching sporadically, blunt nails digging into her palm and leaving crescent grooves. Her other hand lay possessive claim on Pam's hip, digging slightly into the warm flesh she could feel emanating heat like a bonfire through the thin material of Pam's night dress as Pam sent her spiraling into a mad, irreversible ecstasy with her lips alone.

Those lips. Naturally crimson, forever sinful, they were the vampire's undoing.

Pam's lips were Tara's own personally crafted instrument of torture, teasing her until she suffered on the wheel of oneirataxia. They sparked off a savage pang of hunger so overwhelming that it was borderline agonizing, twisting her gut into knots and her fangs to shriek with unholy pain as they demanded the right to penetrate the soft pale flesh of the blonde's neck.

When an alabaster hued hand grazed the underside of her breast, Tara had had enough. She pulled Pam off her and sat them both up, scooting to the edge of the chaise lounge in a pitiful attempt to cool the ardent flames her mate had so easily ignited within her body.

"Do you still doubt my ability to give you pleasure?" Pam asked smugly as she too strove to quiet her own overheated body that still quivered from the desire crooning a seductive melody through her blood. "Are you sufficiently aroused, Tara?"

"Minx," the vampire snarled, her voice guttural as she sought desperately for that tether of self-control. Pointedly turning her nose in the other direction, Tara took exaggerated pulls of unnecessary air that wasn't permeated with Pam's scent and arousal, hoping to clear away the desirous fog addling her brain.

Pam observed Tara quietly for a moment, her own chest heaving, face still flush with arousal and her lips plump and glistening from kisses. Then, she sidled closer, impatiently slapped away the warning hand Tara immediately shot out when she sensed the blonde's approach and wrapped her arms firmly around Tara from behind.

"I love you," she whispered into a dusky ear as she propped her chin onto an incredibly tense shoulder.

Upon those words, Tara sank back against Pam despite her body raging for relief, for distance between that lithe frame composing enticing notes of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla that wracked havoc on her senses. She permitted Pam to hold her, anchor her, as she forced her fangs to retreat, sheer will alone commanding them to return to the concealment of their sheaths.

"How much do you love me?" she asked quietly after a moment as Pam began stroking comforting circles over the protruding abdominal muscles that were evident even through her shirt. The act wasn't meant to arouse, but rather to calm, to soothe.

Pam pressed her lips to Tara's cheek.

"_I love you more than words can express_," she recited memoriter, voice a murmured lull. "_I love you dearer than eyesight, space and liberty and beyond what can be valued rich or rare._" She nuzzled her cheek against Tara's, smiling when the act produced a contented purr, a low, deep rumble that reverberated from the vampire into her own chest currently pressed against Tara's back. "_I love you more than life, a love that makes breath poor and speech unable."_

"Shakespeare," Tara mumbled approvingly, drowsy with content. She allowed Pam to pull her back, allowed the blonde to recline before her body willingly followed.

In a reflected presentation of their early positions, it was now Pam who lay on the chaise lounge and Tara who was tucked against her.

"King Lear," Pam elucidated as she tunneled sure but gentle fingers through Tara's midnight kissed tresses, marveling at the silky softness she found.

"Mmm…"

Tara stretched her sinewy frame out, molding herself into the lithe, soft body that cradled her so lovingly against it.. She buried her nose into the side of Pam's neck, nuzzling at a pulse point that was still producing a slightly off-tempo beat as the blonde eased her aroused body back into a state of calm.

"Are all vampires afflicted with that inclination?" Pam couldn't help but inquire as Tara nosed unapologetically at her neck, faint snuffles speckling the air around them, an interesting backdrop to the kindling crackling under the thick slabs of reddish-orange flames that undulated in the fireplace grate.

"What, this?" Tara rumbled over a satisfied purr as her beast batted happily at the bouquet of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla, rolling around in it as though it wanted nothing more than to drown itself in that alluring scent. "Smelling you? Breathing you in, allowing your scent to mark its territory on my body, claiming it as yours?"

Feral satisfaction licked a path through Pam's veins as Tara, without so much as a shred of hesitation, declared herself as Pam's. She massaged at the vampires scalp, scratching lightly, Tara immediately rewarding her with another pleased purr.

"Yes," she said, voice hitching slightly when Tara moved her lips up to nip playfully at her earlobe.

"Perhaps," Tara replied distractingly. She returned her mouth to Pam's neck, licked at the expanse of snow-kissed flesh beneath her lips, moaning as the taste of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla filtered into her taste buds. "But know that I do it mostly because you smell utterly intoxicating." Tara demonstrated the sincerity of this by sniffing deliberately at the juncture between Pam's neck and shoulder.

"You scent, it calls forth visions of wheat and sunshine, of honey and a balmy summer's breeze." Another deliberate sniff, Pam shuddering when Tara moaned helplessly into her neck. "It is a metagnostic paradox, how your fragrance both soothes and arouses me. Like everything else about you, your scent bewitches me."

Pam sighed at this and it tapered off into a yawn as her body began succumbing to lethargy, the twilight hour of the night demanding from her, visitation rights into the landscape of her dreams.

Tara looked up at this, eyes almost achingly soft with enchantment as Pam made a poor attempt to stifle another yawn.

"You're tired, angel."

"No, I'm not," the blonde groused petulantly. She pulled Tara closer to her, wanting to relish every second she had with her dark savior.

"Yes. You are."

Propping up an elbow, Tara rested the side of her head on her upturned palm. She used her other hand to stroke Pam's cheek. "I think it's time I release you to the warmth of your bed."

A third yawn escaped unbidden from Pam's lips, causing her jaw to pop and Tara to smile affectionately. She trailed midnight-dipped fingers down the line of a delicate jaw, played the pads of her fingers over the soft skin on the side of Pam's neck.

"Might I have the privilege of holding you until you fall asleep, Pamela?"

A soft smile flirted with rose-kissed lips, blue eyes misting over with fierce love as Tara's soft plea registered with her. "If you must," Pam sighed, her flippant words lost under the want and neediness in the husky inflection of her voice.

Tara chuckled and leaned down until their lips almost touched. "I love you," she whispered before she brushed her lips against Pam's, the kiss unfailing sweet, and timelessly tender.

Then, the vampire stood, swept Pam gently into her arms then brought her upstairs where she proceeded to make good on her promise.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Fragments of Pam and Tara's conversation about their preference for the fairer sex are taken from the TV mini-series, _Lost In Austen_. They said it much better than I could.

Also, Pam's love declaration to Tara was taken from Shakespeare's _King Lear_. I believe it was Goneril, one of Lear's daughters who spoke the words in the first act.


	18. Memories And Traditions

**A/N** – I was scrolling through a rough draft of the timeline of this story and realized that I was _dangerously_ close to missing out a key event. This would have devastated me because this event is one of my all-time favorite parts of the year. So, I made the necessary corrections and ta da! New chapter. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Memories and Traditions**

Tara was late.

Pam sat by the bar, a mostly untouched glass of Merlot sitting forlornly by her propped elbow, its rim boasting a faint impression of full lips, courtesy of the rouge Pam had painted over her mouth.

She sighed.

Long, lean fingers the color of flawless ivory absentmindedly toyed with a folded letter its owner held in her hand, azure blue eyes currently locked onto the oracular insignia pressed into the broken crimson wax seal stamp.

She stared at it.

Around the elegantly calligraphic "T" was an intriguing flourish of knots and swirls, along with an intricate design of arcing lines, all intertwining and joining back together in a pattern that was both frustratingly perplexing and hauntingly mesmerizing.

Pam wondered what it all meant.

Tara came from a time where symbolism was highly coveted and the brothel owner knew that some deep contemplations had gone into the engineering of this insignia, no doubt resulting in a physical manifestation of a reasoning that could only be as rich and complex as the vampire herself.

Pam let loose another soft sigh, her forefinger slipping under the slit of the folded the letter to peel it open, revealing written words crafted from a script that was both self-assured and bold.

Tara's handwriting suited her perfectly. The impossibly dark ink against a cream-colored parchment bled deep into the paper, a permanent, irreversible, unapologetic mark. The long strokes the vampire bestowed upon her t's, f's, q's and y's spoke of her wildness, her slightly untamed nature, her adamant refusal to conformity. The slight swirls on her b's, d's and h's spoke of her urbane qualities and unfailing sophistication.

Pam traced a line, a small smile touching her lips as the confidently written words almost seemed to whisper to her, soft secrets and tantalizing tidbits all wrapped cleverly in a package of alphabets and punctuations.

Alphabets and punctuations that formed lines that formed paragraphs that resulted in a letter.

A letter, whose contents were similarly disconcerting.

Pam knew Tara had deliberately constructed the letter to reflect a sense of mystery and intrigue. She had been impressively vague yet charmingly revealing enough to both pique Pam's interest and stir up a sense of adventure.

Still, she wondered what it all meant.

She wondered why Tara had requested the keys to her house.

She wondered.

A faint thud from the entrance hall trickled into the parlor, sending skitters of panic to run its many unwanted legs down her arms, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Pam pivoted and in her haste to turn around, almost upset her precarious equilibrium on the barstool as the abundant material of her skirt caught the pointed end of her boot.

"James?"

Azure blue eyes were wide as an alabaster hand shot out to grip at the edge of the bar, using it to steady her teetering lithe frame.

When the boyishly handsome doorman stuck a sheepish head between the doors that granted entrance into the parlor, Pam's eyes narrowed, her brief visit with shock now tapering off into a pool of vexation that sent the beginnings of a scowl crawling across her lips.

"Might I ask why you felt the need to skulk about the entrance hall like a thief in the night?"

"My apologies, ma'am," James replied immediately, nervously wringing the tweed newsboy cap he held in his hands. "I did not mean to frighten you."

Pam arched a pale brow at the doorman's fidgety behavior. "It's late, James. Why are you still here?"

James shuffled his weight from one foot to another, soft brown eyes looking in every which direction but Pam.

"I am not a patient woman, James," Pam drawled as she slid off the barstool and onto her feet. She sent an arm akimbo, cerulean blue eyes pinned onto her increasingly nervous doorman. "Speak!"

James jumped slightly at his employer's raised tone and looking decidedly like a chastened child on the receiving end of his mother's admonishing tongue, he stuck a hand into his coat pocket and produced from it, a slightly crumpled letter.

"I received instructions from Ms. Thornton earlier this evening," he revealed, blushing slightly, when Pam's arched brow threatened to disappear into her hairline. "She has outfitted me with the task of keeping you company until she arrives to escort you home."

Pam's inner English girl rolled her eyes theatrically at the reveal of this piece of information.

Of course she did.

"Has she now?" Pam replied in a droll tone, though she wasn't much surprised by the news as she was exasperated. Tara always thought of everything.

James nodded, sending locks of unruly rich brown hair with amber highlights tumbling over his forehead. "Yes, ma'am. Though I was not to disturb you and I see that I have." He ducked his head in apology as he tucked the letter back into his pocket. "Please accept my regrets, ma'am."

Pam waved his apology aside with a practiced flourish of her hand. "No need for apologies James." She sat back down and took a sip of her wine. Then, she looked back over at the doorman who remained rooted by the threshold, unsure of what to do next.

She rolled her eyes again. "Come into the parlor, James," she instructed briskly. "You needn't linger by the front door like a wayward pup."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Pam nodded absentmindedly, her attention already returning back to the letter now lying on the slightly worn and chipped bar. She traced a creamy edge, gleaning from it faint notes of raw, wild musk, along with the intoxicating wisps of cloves and sandalwood.

Tara.

The sound of James hopping onto a barstool roused her from the solitary confines of her thoughts.

"Would you care for a drink?" Pam inquired cordially, easily slipping into the role of hostess. Inbred manners befitting of those from aristocratic stock wouldn't have allowed Pam to settle for anything less.

James shook his head as he set down his newsboy cap onto the bar top. He ran nervous fingers through his unruly hair, sending it into a further state of disarray. "No, but I thank you kindly for your offer."

Pam nodded and stared at him for a moment. Her gaze wasn't designed to be intrusive but James seemed overly sensitized to her scrutiny and flushed slightly.

"Ma'am?"

"What would you have done, had I instructed you to take your leave of this establishment?"

Pam had an inkling that Tara had left specific and exceedingly precise instructions in her letter to James and curiosity getting the better of her, she decided to expedite these curiosities.

Crimson lips curled in victory when her inquiry resulted in James' cheeks blossoming with heat. The doorman cleared his throat in a nervous fashion, eyes darting to and fro in a manner that was decidedly anxious.

She arched a brow, cobalt blue eyes latching onto those nervous brown orbs that tried to look anywhere but at her.

James worried the inside of his cheek when Pam wouldn't relent. "Ms. Thornton…"

"Yes?" Pam almost purred, taking more pleasure than was necessary in the manner in which James visibly squirmed under her interrogative demeanor.

"In her letter she instructed me to plead a case of temporary deafness should such a request fall from your lips," he mumbled sheepishly.

Pam huffed a laugh that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

"Of course she did."

"She only wishes to secure your safety and wellbeing," James felt the need to defend Tara whom he had come to genuinely like and admire.

"Of course she does."

Blue eyes were terribly amused as Pam observed James trip over his tongue, the doorman fidgeting in such a comical fashion on the stool which he was ensconced that it looked as though he were to topple from it at any given moment.

She smirked.

"Anything else?"

James reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck, resignation quelling some of the anxiety gnawing at his nerves. His employer was a formidable woman and having grown up in a household with four older headstrong sisters and a mother who seemed to have eyes on the back of her head, he was no stranger to forward females.

"Ms. Thornton also wished me to inform you, if such a conversation did present itself, to not be too put out by this arrangement."

Pam nodded and took another delicate sip of her wine, if only to hide the pleased smile playing about her lips.

Tara always thought of everything.

"How does your mother and sisters fare?" Pam inquired as she settled a less inquisitive and finely honed expression of politeness over the aristocratic features of her face.

"They're well, ma'am," James responded, grateful that Pam seemed to have ceased her relenting questioning of Tara's letter. "Busy during this season of joviality."

Pam inclined her head in acknowledgement and reached out to pat the doorman's hand. "Be sure to tell your mother I said 'hello.'"

Like Pam, James' mother was once an abbess, doing what she could to put food on the table and into her children's mouths. When James' older siblings had become of age, they took over the burden of financing their household, allowing their mother to retire from a profession that demeaned her and more often than not, made danger a constant companion.

James nodded and was about to construct a reply when the doors to the brothel swung open, bringing in the scent of winter tinged rain along with the unmistakable bouquet of raw, wild musk.

Tara.

"Am I interrupting?"

The vampire sauntered into the room, clad handsomely in a high stand collar black men's dress shirt beneath a deep crimson formal double-breasted waistcoat and neatly pressed black brushed cotton trousers. A black satin ascot adorned her neck and completing the blatantly devastating attire was a black wool swallowtail coat that hugged her sinewy torso, black top hat and an emerald glass knobbed cane.

Low currents of power hummed after her, undeniable and potent though its energy was decidedly docile and placid, reflecting Tara's calm disposition.

It was unfortunate that Tara's mellowness had a paradoxical effect on James.

The doorman snatched his hand from out under Pam's as though the blonde had scalded him.

Stumbling off the barstool, James proceeded to turn yet another interesting shade of scarlet as he executed a deliberate sequence of steps designed to put respectable distance between him and Pam.

"M-my apologies, Ms. Thornton," he sputtered as he caught sight of Tara's arched brow, mistaking the amused expression for one of disapproval. He took a further step back, almost tripping in his haste. "I've overstepped my bounds."

Tara chuckled as she ambled over, the tip of her cane clacking intermittently with each step. She reached the fidgeting doorman and clapped a conciliating hand on his shoulder. "At ease, young James," she informed him warmly. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to safeguard what I hold most dear."

Both Pam and James blushed furiously at Tara's blunt admission, Pam because she had never publicly made known her proclivity towards women and James because he had never heard such a bold statement of affection constructed around such sincerity.

The doorman visibly relaxed when he came to the conclusion that Tara was not irked by his close proximity to Pam in any form. He bowed, a genuine act of respect. "It was an honor, Ms. Thornton. I'll take my leave now."

Tara smiled and reached into her pants pocket, procuring from it a folded bill. She slipped it into James' hand. "For your troubles," she whispered into his ear when he opened his mouth to protest.

James blushed harder around a pleased smile. "Thank you, miss."

Pocketing the tip, he turned and sketched a respectable bow to Pam. "Ma'am."

"Good night, James," Pam replied courteously, gracing him a with small smile.

Human and vampire watched as James tugged on his newsboy cap, sending tufts of soft brown hair to peek out in awkward directions. With a last shy smile, he disappeared out of the parlor, through the front entrance and out into the fog drenched streets.

Tara turned her attentions to Pam, swiped her hat off of her head and bowed deeply at the waist. "Ms. Beaufort," she addressed cordially before reaching out for a pale hand. Cradling it lovingly, she brought it to her lips and feathered a soft kiss across alabaster knuckles, smiling when it elicited a shiver.

"You're late," Pam accused lightly when Tara released her hand in favor of running the pads of her fingers down her cheek. She smiled at the vampire though, letting the expression inform Tara that she wasn't quite as upset as she was pretending to be.

"With good reason," Tara responded softly as she stroked at the soft, warm skin of Pam's cheek. Dark eyes ran a course down her mate's seated frame, desire flaring in those ink-soaked depths as she took in the blonde's perfected coordinated attire.

Tonight, Pam was dressed in an ivory satin blouse under a black and crimson floral pattern outing jacket. A bold sapphire walking skirt revolved around her legs like the ocean's waves and black Victorian steeple boots played peek-a-book out of the hems of the abundant fabrics of the blonde's skirt. A cream satin neckerchief completed the ensemble and a black and burgundy riding hat and a pair of black deerskin gloves sat on the bar top, patiently waiting instruction.

"Aren't you an enchanting and arresting sight to behold tonight," Tara murmured lowly, voice dropping several registers as she raked unashamed eyes down the front of Pam's lithe frame. "The epitome of feminine beauty, so painstakingly crafted from a figure that would make the gods rage with jealousy and Aphrodite to throw herself from the nearest cliff."

Pam blushed violently at Tara's words and ducked her head. "The things you say, Tara," she mumbled, half mortified, half flattered beyond reason.

Tara simply smiled and reached out to gently tuck two fingers under Pam's chin. Guiding luminous pewter-blue eyes back onto her own orbs of midnight, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Pam's.

"_She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies, holding all that's best of dark and bright," _Tara husked as she indulged in a brief, unrepentant staring into twin pools of pure sapphire. Limber fingers walked themselves down a warm cheek, marveling at the smoothness it found. "_So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, with a heart whose love is innocent."_

"Pace yourself, Tara," Pam murmured around a seemingly permanent blush that had stained her cheeks crimson. "Not five minutes have you been in my presence and already, all manners of sweet and saccharine are falling from your sinful lips."

Tara grinned at this and leaned in so that their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. "What can I say?" she whispered against tumid flesh, a charming smile curving the corners of her lips. "When granted the privilege to be in your splendorous presence, my tongue loosens, allowing the lyrics from my heart to pour forth like liquid from a stream."

Pam snorted at this and was about to respond with a witty retort when Tara silenced her with a kiss. The vampire kissed Pam, softly yet passionately, tenderly yet fiercely, lingering long enough so that the soft rasp of their mouths against each other sent intimate parts of her aching with need and damp with desire.

"Are you ready to retire?" Tara asked cordially when she pulled back, pausing only to thumb away a smear of rouge that had smudged outside the sensuous arc of Pam's lips. Her chest heaved unnecessarily as she gazed adoringly at the blonde, voice rendered to a husky rasp from the intimate contact of their lips.

Pam nodded, her own eyes hooded with arousal, her pulse hammering desperately against the side of her neck. "Yes."

Tara held out a hand at this and Pam took it, allowing the vampire to assist her carefully to her feet.

"Oh, before I forget." Tara fished about in her coat pocket then pulled out a lone key threaded through an emerald green ribbon. She held it out to the blonde. "Your key, angel. Thank you for entrusting me with it."

Pam smiled and reached out but instead of taking the proffered item, she closed Tara's fingers around it. "Keep it," she informed her softly, bending to gently kiss the fist that Tara's hand had made upon her insistent fingers. "You're welcome to my home anytime, Tara."

The enchanted, wondrous expression sparkling from ink-drenched eyes told Pam that she had made the right decision.

"Thank you, Pamela." Tara's voice was awed, her expression one of reverence. She slipped the key's ribbon over her head then tucked it carefully into her shirt, where it alighted and dangled near to her unbeating heart. "I shall treasure it always."

"It's just a key, Tara."

Tara shook her head and reached out to palm Pam's cheek. "It is not _just_ a key," she insisted as she caressed soft, ivory kissed skin radiating the most delicious warmth. "It is a physical representation of your implicit trust. Trust in _me_."

"I trust you with my life," Pam confessed quietly. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Tara's. "I love you."

Tara's entire expression softened at Pam's verbal declaration of love. She returned the kiss, stroked a tender thumb over the soft skin of Pam's cheek. "I shall never tire of hearing those words fall from your curvaceous lips."

Feathering one last kiss across Pam's mouth, she then took a step back and replaced her hat on her head before reaching over to assist the blonde with buttoning her jacket.

Pam retrieved her hat and gloves, placing the former atop of a head piled elegantly with waves of corn-silk curls. She couldn't help but smile shyly when Tara reached up to adjust it, ensuring the accessory would not slip.

"Thank you," she said as she pulled on her gloves.

Tara simply beamed at her, an effulgent smile that that was almost blinding. The vampire held out an arm. "Come," she requested softly. "A carriage awaits."

Pam started at this. "We're not walking?"

Pam enjoyed their nightly walks, had come to yearn for them as the night trickled by in a manner that sometimes proved agonizing. The news that they would not be enjoying each other's company in such a simple yet intimate fashion left her somewhat bereft.

Tara frowned as the metallic tang of disappointment permeated the air, courtesy of the blonde. She dropped her arm and pivoted so that the pair was once more face to face. "I had hoped we would acquire a swifter means of transport to your home tonight, Pamela. But if you feel so strongly about the matter, I'll send the carriage on its way."

Pam inwardly berated herself for the placing the hesitant, uncertain expression on Tara's face. She softly kissed Tara's cheek in apology. "It's alright," she whispered in a placating lilt. "I have no to wish to upset your carefully constructed plans for this evening."

Tara searched Pam's eyes for any shred of doubt. "Are you sure?" She reached out, ran her knuckles down a soft, warm cheek kissed by snow. "The procurement of a carriage is by no means a manifestation of my lack of desire to walk with you tonight. I simply have a surprise for you that begs immediate attention."

Pam's curiosity unfurled its languid body at this, Tara's words suddenly reminding her of the reason for the vampire's tardiness in the first place.

"Your letter," Pam spoke, turning back to the bar to retrieve said item. She tucked it preciously into her jacket pocket and sidled up to Tara, curling lean fingers around her elbow. At a gentle tug, Tara began leading them out of the parlor. "What was so important, that you felt the need to ask permission for entrance to my home tonight?"

Tara smiled, an enigmatic quirk of tumid dark pink lips that sent Pam's heart cartwheeling in the confines of her chest and her pulse to double in tempo. She pushed open the door then held it out, allowing Pam to step into the fog-painted city embalmed with winter chill.

Closing the door, she gracefully stepped aside to allow Pam to lock it, then took the blonde's hand gently in her own.

"You'll see."

xxxxxxxx

"Oh, Tara."

Pam's breathy sigh, graven with sheer joy and unadulterated awe, drew a jubilant smile across Tara's lips.

Dark eyes were elated, smitten at they watched from their owner's vantage point by the threshold as Pam walked towards the fruits of Tara's labor, steps faltering slightly as sparkling cerulean blue eyes remained transfixed onto a floor to ceiling monstrosity of a Christmas tree.

The giant fir tree was voluptuous in its pines and branches, ripe and fresh with the scent of wintergreen and nature and full to bursting with decorations.

Pam turned and found Tara staring at her, a besotted expression softening the immortal features of her face, dark eyes brimming with fierce affection and a love so pure and true it staggered her.

"_This_ is what kept you occupied early this evening?" she asked, voice little more than a breathless whisper.

Tara nodded, pushed off from the doorjamb and ambled over to Pam. She came to a stop behind the blonde, wrapped strong but unfailingly tender arms around a trim waist then rested her chin on Pam's shoulder.

"I wanted it to be perfect for you," she whispered into an ivory hued ear before placing a soft kiss to the hollow behind its lobe. "I wasn't sure at first if you acknowledged the tradition of Christmas. It's but a fortnight before the birth of Christ but you've yet to express some form of interest." Another kiss, this time to the side of a pale neck. "I apologize if I've overstepped my bounds but this is a holiday dear to my heart and I wish for nothing more than to share it with you."

Pam turned in the circle of Tara's arms and reached up to cup either side of the vampire's face. She leaned in, ghosted a kiss to full dark pink lips, smiling when Tara sighed into her mouth, her body instinctively going slack against her own.

"Do you have any idea how full my heart is of you? How much love it holds for you, Tara?"

"If it's even a smidgen of the love I feel for you, then I am indeed the luckiest creature to walk this earth," Tara returned softly. She kissed the corner of Pam's mouth. "Are you truly pleased, my beautiful angel?"

Pam returned to her original position of facing the tree, leaning back against a sinewy body of perfectly engineered musculature.

Tara held Pam to her in turn, tucking the blonde to her front tenderly, lovingly, protectively.

"It's so lovely, Tara," Pam admitted, her voice hushed, her accent shifting into one of British refinment as she stared at the vampire's creation. "I am at a loss for words. It must have taken you hours."

She stared at the great fir tree, took in the meticulously decorated branches of strings of dried fruits, ribbon wrapped sticks of cinnamon, little toy ornaments, ivy ribbons, threaded holly berries, homemade cookies wrapped in tissue, pinecones and candles that were currently unlit.

And on top of the tree sat an angel doll, with wings that glittered and a sewn smile that stretched from cheek to cheek.

It was resplendent.

It spoke of home.

It spoke of love.

"Tara..."

Pam couldn't speak, could not produce words adequate enough to articulate her gratefulness, her wonderment, her joy.

Tara tightened her embrace a notch. "You do acknowledge Christmas."

It wasn't a question.

Pam turned at this, pewter blue eyes shiny with tears. "I do," she admitted, voice husky with emotion. "But I haven't had cause to celebrate it for almost half a decade. Christmas is a time for family, for loved ones. It's not a tradition meant for the lonely."

A lone tear fell, one perfect diamond teardrop that rolled elegantly down an alabaster cheek.

Tara reached up, caught the tear on the tip of her thumb. "You are not alone anymore, Pamela," she vowed, voice fierce with determination and even fiercer with love. "Never again will you walk one path on this earth without me at your side." She cupped the blonde's jaw, bent and brushed her lips reverently against Pam's. "You will never again feel the sting of loneliness, you will not ache for want of company and nor will you ever again be deprived of love's warm embrace."

The vampire kissed her mate again, moving her fingers up to caress a pale cheek so tenderly that more tears spilled down Pam's cheeks.

Tara simply kissed them away. "It's time to revive traditions of old, my angel." She pulled back, looked deep into a pair of winter-kissed eyes that branded her, heart and soul. A brand she wore with unflinching pride. "And I promise you, with all that I am, we'll pay homage to such traditions. Old _and_ new."

Pam responded to Tara's passionate vow by stepping further into the strong cage of the vampire's embrace, her own arms of alabaster winding themselves around Tara's neck.

She hugged Tara to her fiercely, never wanting to be released from arms that held her with unerring care, that stamped love and devotion and affection from where they twined around her lithe frame.

She never wanted to let go.

She never wanted to be let go.

"I've a new tradition I wish for us to begin together," Tara murmured after a moment into Pam's hair, her low alto barely audible over the merrily crackling fire she had engineered to life with logs before she left to collect her mate. She cradled Pam to her, swaying them slightly on the spot, intermittently raining kisses into sweet-smelling golden-blonde hair.

"Tell me," Pam murmured in kind, nuzzling her cheek against Tara's coat covered shoulder.

"Let us light the candles on the Christmas tree together."

Pam smiled and pressed her lips to the side of Tara's neck, procuring from the vampire, an immediate shudder.

Then, she pulled back, albeit reluctantly, and palmed Tara's cheek, a soft, fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips when Tara leaned into her touch. "I would love nothing more than to make a memory with you, Tara."

Tara turned and kissed softly the hand Pam alighted on the side of her face.

"Memories and traditions," she promised solemnly, resolutely. "And I will harrow Tartarus itself to ensure you feature in each and every one."

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N 2** – Tara quoted Lord Bryon's _She Walks in Beauty_. And before you think I'm insane, yes, back in yesteryear, people did put lit candles on their Christmas trees. How else were they going to get it all sparkly and glow-y before electricity? Plus, it's prettier. Severely more hazardous 'cuz ya know, tree, fire, flammable, but undeniably prettier.


	19. Journeys Into Hearth And Home

**A/N** – To try to pen out an authentic atmosphere of Christmas, I dug out my Christmas playlist. And you know how Christmas songs are well…_contagious_, _addictive_ and _get stuck in your head_?! Yeah, the past few days I've been absentmindedly humming the odd Christmas carol here and there. People think I'm nuts I bet. *sigh* Oh well, hope you get something out of my grief. Also, thanks for those who read and read and left a review.

* * *

**Chapter 19 – Journeys into Hearth and Home**

Christmas Eve had fallen upon the fog drenched city of undulating hills, ushering in strings of festive ornamentation, contingents of carol singers and an unrelenting atmosphere of yuletide cheer.

Tara circled the dimly glowing Christmas tree clad in a pristine white, wing tip collar dress shirt underneath a notch collar emerald green brocade waistcoat with engrailed pewter buttons. Accompanying this attire were charcoal dress trousers with side slant front pockets and black polished laced up dress boots. A black satin puff tie adorned her neck and the gold chain of a pocket watch ran across the left pocket of her waistcoat. Her queued hair of ink with ocean tints hung at the nape of her neck, tied together by a dark brown strip of leather.

She looked devastatingly regal, wild, indomitable power wrapped inside a package that both urbane and sophisticated.

The vampire made her rounds around the great fir tree, a brass cast dual purpose scissors-style candle douter and wick trimmer in her hand. She carefully doused each lit candle, taking great pains not to drip wax onto the floor.

Undulating in the fireplace, the fire Tara had banked flickered weakly as it strove to maintain its flame from the kindling that was now dominated by ashes and cinder. What little light remained threw out elongated shadows across the darkened sitting room, casting distorted shapes that writhed and twisted over furniture as though locked in agony's embrace.

Tara doused another candle then paused as obsidian eyes fell on a lone rectangular shaped gift wrapped in fragile colored tissue. It hung on a branch by a gold ribbon, nestled between a string of dried fruits and the twine of an ivy ribbon.

She smiled and plucked it gently from the tree, wondering how it had managed to circumvent her mate's inquisitive hands and wandering eyes.

Along with the usual decorations of ivy ribbons, toy ornaments, strings of dried fruits, colored paper chains and threaded holly berries, Tara had taken to hanging odd little gifts wrapped in fragile tissue and wrapping paper, tying the packages together with ribbons of red, green and gold.

It had delighted her to no end to watch Pam peruse the tree each night, and at her insistence, to pick from its branches, one gift a night.

It was a new tradition, introduced and welcomed with zest, by both vampire and human.

It gave Tara unequivocal joy to simply linger close by and observe the manner in which vivid azure eyes would light up with excitement when Pam's magnolia white fingers would come across a gift. Her heart would ache fiercely with love as she watched Pam retrieve her gift of choice, turning then, to immediately face Tara with a look of unadulterated pleasure graven onto her face.

The memories Pam had bestowed upon her this past fortnight were irreplaceable treasures Tara would cherish for the rest of her nights.

The sound of heeled boots on the stairwell roused the vampire from the solitary confines of her pleasant musings.

Smiling, she snuffed out the last two flames, engulfing the tree in darkness. Then, slipping the last gift on the Christmas tree into her front pocket, she sauntered over to deposit the candle douter onto the fireplace mantle before making her way out of the sitting and into the hallway that would grant her access to the stairs.

"Hello, my precious angel."

Pam's crimson painted lips curved at greeting, Tara's low alto sending warmth to infuse into her blood and a delightful shiver to trip down her spine. She alight on the narrow landing in the middle of the stairs, carefully positioned to allow for a change in direction.

She smiled.

"Tara."

The vampire sighed at this, her name on Pam's lips easily the most mellifluous sound she would never tire of hearing.

Dark eyes looked up, taking in the mesmerizingly enchanting vision that was Pam.

Her mate was attired in a long sleeved ivory blouse with a turnover collar and stamped metal buttons beneath a burgundy tie back outing jacket with princess puff sleeves and a row of aurulent round buttons that ran down the front. A matching burgundy swirl skirt that flared out slightly at the hems revolved around her legs like red, red wine, a bustle strategically placed beneath it to enhance her figure from behind. Her sun-kissed hair was swept up in an elegant chignon with heavy side swept bangs styled to curl behind her right ear and wisps of curled ringlets of corn silk tresses left to tease the left side of her face.

Pam completed her festive color appropriate outfit with a black velvet cameo choker caught in an ormolu intricate frame and teardrop pearl earrings, both gifts from Tara she had retrieved from the tree.

She was a vision to behold, Pam was.

A vision of perpetual feminine beauty.

Tara smiled, completely besotted.

"Look at you in your entire wondrous sartorial splendor," she observed dreamily, voice huskier than normal as she ran an appreciative gaze down the tantalizing topography that was Pam's lithe frame.

She then ascended the stairs, her dark eyes never once leaving deep pools of flawless sapphire as they tracked back up that body of gold and snow.

"The quiddity of exquisiteness," Tara continued softly, voice awash in awe. She came to a stop on a stair that ran parallel to the landing, reached out and took Pam's free hand into her own. Cradling it with a care that threatened to bring tears to Pam's eyes, the vampire lifted it to her lips, brushing a soft, reverent kiss to pale knuckles.

"If I live for another thousand years, I know I will never again come across a beauty such as yours. You are, truly stunning," she finished softly.

Pam blushed and ducked her head, flattered beyond reason. "Honestly, Tara," she murmured as she resisted the urge to fan herself, eyes glued to the pointed tips of her calf-length black leather lace up boots with metal eyelets and hooks.

When two midnight-hued fingers tucked themselves under her chin, Pam had no choice but to raise her head, her winter-blue orbs immediately running into deep wells of ink.

"Was I deficient in my sincerity?" Tar asked politely. She stroked softly at the warm skin beneath Pam's chin, smiling when pale lids fluttered.

"No," Pam sighed as Tara moved her hand up to caress the pad of her thumb over a prominent cheekbone. "No, you were marvelously articulate. I'm flattered."

"And yet, a part of you still doubts the generosity of my compliments." Tara leaned in, feathered a kiss to the cheek she was stroking affection onto, then pulled back. "We are going to have to remedy this malaise, Princess."

Pam chuckled ruefully. "And how do you plan on approaching the subject, Tara? Are you going to greet me each evening with a sonnet pertaining to feminine beauty?"

"If that's what it takes to make your see your worth," Tara replied softly. She kissed Pam again, a brush of cool, dark pink lips to the corner of a crimson painted mouth. Then, she reached down and relieved her mate of the traveling carpet bag with its tapestry and oriental designs and knobbed brass feet.

"Why did you not you call for me when you were ready?" the vampire asked as Pam relinquished the bag to Tara's insistent hands. "I would have come to escort you down."

Pam arched a pale brow. "I am not an invalid, Tara. I am perfectly capable of carrying a bag down the staircase of my own home."

Tara chuckled under her breath at the blonde's indignant response. "I did not intimate that you were incapable, Pamela." She set the bag down by her feet. "But you are _mine_," she added, primal satisfaction crooning through her veins as her possessive declaration procured from Pam, a visible shiver. "You are allowed to lean on me."

Pam smiled and palmed Tara's cheek, eyes softening when her dark savior immediately leaned into her touch. "You look very handsome tonight, Tara," she whispered almost as she allowed her eyes to slowly canvas the vampire's perfectly coordinated attire. It stunned her almost, that she had been granted the privilege to look upon such regal magnificence, to have sole rights to touch, taste, possess this creature untamable by society and circumstance. "I find myself going breathless at the mere sight of you."

Tara turned and kissed the warm hand caressing her cheek. "You honor me with such complimentary an observation."

Pressing another kiss to the inside of Pam's palm, she then reached into her front pocket and fished out the last, lone Christmas gift.

"The tree's last offering," she said by way of explanation. "Clever how it managed to evade your enthusiastic expeditions of its branches the past fortnight."

Pam huffed a gentle laugh at Tara gently teasing tone. She took the proffered item from Tara's upturned palm. "Thank you."

Tara inclined her head in acknowledgement then watched, eyes diligent, infatuated and unapologetically loving as Pam undid the knot in the ribbon then peeled back the wrapping. A sharp inhale pricked the otherwise silent moment as the colored tissue fell away to reveal an ornate white gold decorative comb with floral flourishes dotted with blue diamond studs.

"Tara..."

"I thought it matched the color of your eyes," Tara smiled. She relieved Pam of the wrappings and ribbon, tucked it into her front pocket then took the comb in her hand. "Would you stoop to honor me by wearing it tonight?"

Pam turned immediately in response. Tara smiled, leaned into brush her lips to the back of Pam's neck then reached up to gently slide the hair accessory on the outer circle of Pam's chignon hair, purposely positioning it slightly askew so as to allow the accessory to be noticed.

"Beautiful," Tara sighed as Pam pivoted to face her once more.

The blonde cupped Tara's face in her hand and kissed her, softly, tenderly, lips lingering to infuse the wild and raw scent of musk, cloves and sandalwood onto her tongue. "I love you," she whispered when she pulled back. "It's a splendid gift, Tara, truly. Thank you."

Tara merely smiled and leaned in to revisit the sweet taste of Pam's lips, moaning deep in her throat when Pam gentle grabbed the lapels of her waistcoat and tugged her towards her body.

"Now, now," the vampire croaked out as the scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla twined around her senses, immediately wracking havoc. She half-growled, half-purred when Pam nipped playfully at her lower lip. "Decorum needs to be exercised," she gasped as Pam dragged her lips down to the column of her throat, blunt teeth initiating teasing bites on dark, cool skin before a damp velvet tongue laved over each one, smoothing the faint aches.

Tara moaned, loud and long when Pam moved back up to capture her lips in a dangerously passionate kiss that caused pain to explode down her gums as her fangs threatened to protract.

The vampire indulged in the sinful contact of their mouths for mere moments before she reluctantly pulled back, reaching down to gently but insistently encircle her fingers around Pam's playfully wandering hands.

"Decorum, woman," Tara growled, voice guttural and hoarse from the desire Pam could always so easily stir up in her. "You are going to render me untidy if you continue in such fervid a fashion."

Pam snickered and leaned into Tara, sighing with utter contentment as strong arms of ebony twined around her, cradling her closer.

"I like you untidy," she murmured as she nuzzled her warm and slightly flushed cheek against Tara's shoulder.

"I think 'unraveled' would be more suitable a word, Princess."

Tara smiled into Pam's hair as the blonde's lithe frame shook under the transport of near silent laughter. She kissed the shell of a conveniently nearby ear, allowed herself a moment to hold Pam close, to cherish the intimate moment between them before gently pulling away.

"Come," she instructed softly as she turned and retrieved the carpet bag on the landing. She held out an arm, a soft, fond smile etching itself across her lips as Pam took it. "In case you forget, angel, we've a previous engagement that begs punctuality."

"Indeed," Pam agreed as Tara led her down the last step and over to the hallway table where their outer garments hung on their respective coat hooks. "Mrs. Mackenzie does not take kindly to tardiness."

"And it would be in very poor form to interrupt their Christmas Eve schedule with our belated arrival," Tara added as she set Pam's bag down by the leg of the narrow hallway table.

The vampire then reached up for Pam's scarf hanging on a coat hook and wound the knitted Egyptian blue woolen scarf around Pam's neck, securing it with a simple, unfussy knot. She turned, retrieved the traveling cloak she had made for Pam from its hook and shook it open before throwing it around the blonde's shoulders with an expert flick of her wrist. Tara secured the steel clasps together at the Pam's throat beneath her scarf, adjusted the cloak so that it covered Pam's lithe frame then reached over to the narrow hallway table for Pam's soft black deerskin gloves.

"Here you go, Princess."

Pam took the proffered item and kissed Tara's cheek in thanks. She pulled on her gloves as Tara began to outfit herself with a long black wool frock coat with a notched lapel and fabric covered buttons. Done, she slipped a black silk brim top hat with a flat ribbon on its side on her head then pulled on a pair of formal, black dress gloves.

Tara smiled in a manner that was both bashful and disarmingly charming when Pam reached over and adjusted the lapels on her coat, smoothing a hand down the front of the woolen material when she finished.

"Thank you."

The vampire bent, picked up Pam's carpet bag then held out an arm. "Shall we?"

Pam curled long, lean fingers of snow around the proffered elbow then allowed Tara to lead them out of the door towards their first destination of the evening.

xxxxxxxx

Mrs. Mackenzie's domicile was a standalone Victorian house that rested atop a monticle overlooking the bay. Comprised of brick and stone, the three-story residence boasted Gothic and Georgian influences with sash and bay windows, a gray slate roof and a pointed porch.

Tara pushed open the small wrought iron gate, wincing slightly as it groaned piteously, the piercing squeal of unoiled hinges jarring to her sensitive ears.

She ushered Pam through, closed the gate the reapplied the latch before following after the blonde who was already meandering down the narrow graveled path dividing the front garden in half.

She helped her mate up the three stepped to the front porch, then watched as Pam tugged gently on a chain threaded through with festive ribbons.

A bell chimed canorously from somewhere inside the house, no doubt echoing into rooms and thus, announcing their arrival.

Tara's superior hearing picked up the muffled sound of footsteps approaching. There was the click of a lock being turned before the snick of a door opening revealed their host and a flood of warm, auric light.

Mrs. Mackenzie was attired in a dark amethyst tea gown with long flowing sleeves and a full skirt, her salt and pepper hair parted at the center and gathered at the back in a low bun.

She arched an eyebrow at the couple.

"You're late," Mrs. Mackenzie said by way of greeting as she stood framed by the threshold. She folded her arms, bolstering her ample bosom. "Tardiness does not become you, Pamela."

Pam ducked her head at the reprimand, if only to hide the small smile playing about her lips. "I humbly beg your apologies, Ada," she murmured in a chastened tone.

"I'm afraid the fault lies with me, ma'am," Tara cut in smoothly. She removed her hat and careful not to upset the small stack of wrapped packages she cradled in the crook of her arm, graced her host with a deep bow then straightened. "I was deficient in my ability to manage our time properly."

"Time you spent necking no doubt," the matronly woman deduced, her tone nonchalant though her eyes twinkled with mirth when Pam immediately flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet and ducked her head further. "No need to be bashful, Pamela. We've all felt the sting of young love."

Pam mumbled something under her breath and kept her eyes averted, embarrassment still heating her cheeks.

Tara merely smiled at her mate's discomfiture then turned and offered her host the small stack of carefully wrapped gifts. "I bid you a merry Christmas Eve, ma'am."

"Thank you," Mrs. Mackenzie replied as Tara carefully transferred her burden into the matronly woman's arms. "You really shouldn't have."

"'Tis a time for giving, is it not?" Tara replied cordially. "The conduct of Christmas obliges me to engage in its traditions of giving and good tidings." She smiled at her host. "I only hope these gifts bring you some measure of happiness and joy."

"I'm sure they will."

Mrs. Mackenzie deposited the packages on the hallway table then motioned Pam and Tara inside.

"Well come on in before you both catch your death of cold," Mrs. Mackenzie announced, waving the pair in with a flourish of her hand.

Pam reached down, fumbled for Tara's hand then gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze when she felt Tara tense next to her upon Mrs. Mackenzie's blithe invitation.

"You're alright," Pam whispered softly into a dusky ear. She kissed a dark cheek, knowing just how personal and significant the moment was for her mate. "Come inside, Tara."

Tara took a moment to gently caress a warm, pale cheek, silently telling Pam without words, her gratitude. Then, she allowed Pam to lead her into the warmly lit hallway lined with carpet. Boisterous chatter permeated the air that was already saturated with the deliciously complex aromas of a Christmas Eve meal along with the wintergreen scent of a great fir tree that no doubt lingered close by.

It smelled of home, of comfort, of warmth.

It made Tara smile.

The vampire unbuttoned and shrugged off her coat, hung it on a hook next to a mirror with an ornate brass frame then placed her top hat and gloves on the hook next to it.

"Allow me," Tara offered solicitously as Pam began fumbling with her own garments.

Mrs. Mackenzie closed the door, replaced the lock then leaned against the sturdy wood, taking the opportunity to study the pair before her. Deep pools of emerald observed with no small amount of amusement as Tara assisted Pam out of her travel cloak, scarf and gloves much to the blonde's chagrin, hanging each item up with utmost care.

Her gaze moved over to Pam's cloak, its intriguing and mercurial shade of blue drawing the matronly woman's attention to it.

"That's a lovely cloak, Pamela," she observed, eyes roaming curiously over the golden Celtic swirls running a path along the hems of the cloak.

"Tara had it made for me," Pam explained.

"To match the arresting color of her eyes," Tara added, grinning impishly when Pam's cheeks pinked.

Their host snorted, more amused than ever by the unapologetic manner in which Tara made known her affections towards Pam.

"You're looking well, Ada," Pam observed softly as she recomposed herself. "The holidays suit you."

"And love suits you, Pamela."

Mrs. Mackenzie's blunt observation once against sent Pam into the throes of another blush, this one more furious than the last. The blonde ducked her head, cheeks flaming with heat though she did not refute her former employer's statement.

The matronly woman to cluck her tongue affectionately at the sight of a bashful Pam. She closed the distance between them, bent and placed a maternal kiss on the blonde's forehead. "I am delirious with happiness for you, my beautiful girl." She pulled back and cupped Pam's cheek, gently guiding blue eyes to meet her own orbs of emerald. "It does an old woman's heart good to see such an effulgent smile on your face."

Pam smiled, eyes misting with tears. She leaned into the calloused hand, indulging in the material affection Mrs. Mackenzie was so generously offering. "Thank you, Ada."

Mrs. Mackenzie held Pam's azure gaze for a moment, smiled fondly then turned to Tara.

The vampire stood off to the side silently, a tender smile pulling at the corners of her lips as she regarded the exchange with a soft look in her eye.

"Ms. Thornton."

Tara refocused her attentions on her host and inclined her head respectfully. "Ma'am."

"I want to thank you. Thank you for finally giving Pamela cause to visit during this time of giving and felicity." A wry grin touched Mrs. Mackenzie's lips. "She has, for the better part of four years, evaded my requests to partake in some yuletide joy."

Tara smiled and bowed. "I am happy to oblige, ma'am. It is an honor and privilege to return your call and I'm sure Ms. Beaufort is as deeply pleased as I am."

Mrs. Mackenzie smiled, Tara effortlessly charming her with her impeccable manners and polished tongue. "Come," she requested. She clapped a heavy hand on Tara's shoulder in solidarity then began walking down the hallway. "Let us adjourn to the dining room. A feast awaits, as does the raucous brood I call my family."

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Dinner proved to be a sprightly affair though both Pam and Tara first had to tread carefully through the tricky waters pertaining to Tara's lack of desire and ability to partake in the painstakingly constructed feast laden on a table that seemed to groan under the weight of the abundant dishes.

Still, despite the somewhat awkward start, the evening progressed with joviality and cheer, the expansive dining room filled with the merry din of voices old and young.

Tara had been terribly amused by the organized chaos that was the domestic scene unfolding in the living room of her host's dwelling. Children shrieked and screamed and giggled over a discordant staccato of clinking cutlery against plates. Adults of these children lovingly admonished over a strangely coordinated engagement of refilling empty glasses and plates, keeping wayward elbows out of puddings and plucking spoons out of hands that sought to use the silverware to pitch morsels of food across the table to unsuspecting targets.

And adding to this jovial din was the sporadic tune of bavardage, the unattached persons without offspring turning to each other for the respite of a conversation not embrangled with exasperated huffs and sudden raised tones as one of their own would fall prey to a foolhardy act.

Tara had watched, dark eyes unfailingly observant and at times, more than a little envious as the humans around her went about their meal and conversations, taking easy, simple joy in the most mundane of acts.

The vampire's own reprieve came from Pam herself, who was never far from easing Tara into a dialogue, years of being groomed to receiving addresses from various companies allowing the blonde to traverse from one avenue of communication to another was graceful ease.

And when a topic had been exhausted, when the engagers of such dialogue fell into brief moments of silence and contemplation, Pam would turn to Tara and speak to her simply with her eyes.

She would inch her pale hand over a cool dark one, entwining their fingers beneath the table, allowing Tara the comfort of tactile contact, the azure blue of her eyes tender as they latched onto deep, fathomless pools of flawless midnight.

And Tara would smile. Her expression would melt as she gazed, smitten at her mate and her eyes would twinkle in a fashion only Pam could invoke.

Tara had never known such unbridled contentment.

She felt that same sentiment now, standing near the entrance of the sitting room the entire company had adjourned to. Her sinewy frame had taken to leaning casually against the wallpapered wall boasting a tasteful palette of berry, rich burgundy and forest green. A design of urns, florals and scrolls ran rampant over the rich hues of red and green, its smoky black accents befitting of the times.

Dark eyes allowed its owner a moment to examine her surroundings, taking in the voluptuous Christmas tree standing sentinel in the middle of the room, its branches laden with tinsel, paper chains, strings of dried fruits, hard boiled sweets, homemade cookies, small gifts wrapped in colored tissue, lit candles and a large gold star twisted from wire propped at the very top.

Children were scattered around it, some poking and prodding at the numerous packages lying in mysterious heaps lying beneath the tree's branches and others reliving the tree of an edible treat or two.

Tara couldn't help the fond smile that lifted the corners of her lips as she watched the youngsters expel their seemingly boundless amounts of energy and vivacity in highly amusing presentations. How they managed to maintain such a steadfast level of enthusiasm was a mystery, even to one as long-lived as the vampire.

The vampire chuckled under breath as a toddler crawled over and promptly parked his diapered bottom on a reclining girl's face. She squealed in indignation, immediately rousing two adults who had taken to draping themselves exhaustedly over what available furniture was left.

There was a brief scuffle, gentle reprimands and the odd sniffle before temporary order was restored.

Tara grinned, thoroughly enjoying the familial display unfurling before her. The grin then faded, manifesting into a soft, loving, intimate smile as dark eyes tracked over where Pam was ensconced on an overstuffed armchair by the fire, engaged in a conversation with one of Mrs. Mackenzie's daughters.

The blonde was encased in an auric halo the fire had contoured around her lithe frame, the brazen gold and red flames picking out the sun-kissed highlights of Pam's hair and washing a warm glow over the hiemal features of her face that was currently animated from conversation.

She was beautiful.

She was resplendent.

She was everything.

As if sensing Tara's presence, Pam turned, cerulean blue eyes immediately running into a pair of intense dark eyes that gazed at her with unabashed love that was almost violent in its devotion.

Pam's heart clenched in an almost painful manner when Tara smiled at her, a slow, burning smile she only reserved for her.

She smiled in turn, expression softening when Tara inclined her head in acknowledgement. She gazed into those wells of ink for another long moment before turning back to Mrs. Mackenzie's daughter.

Throughout this exchange, Mrs. Mackenzie herself had taken to unobtrusively studying the pair from her corner of the room.

In fact, she had been subtly observing Tara since the pair's arrival into her humble abode.

There was something about Tara that called forth one's attention and despite having briefly met her once before, prolonged exposure in the vampire's presence only served to heighten the feeling of curiosity she had constructed towards Tara.

Mrs. Mackenzie watched now as Tara's impossibly dark eyes trained themselves tenderly, lovingly onto Pam, her gaze never once wavering from the lithe figure sequestered by the fireplace.

Her gaze was protective too, fiercely so and Mrs. Mackenzie had no doubts that should she walk herself to stand in front of the dark-skinned woman, she would see, burning in those midnight depths, the raging flames of feral possession.

Tara's disposition towards Pam was as contradictory as the individual herself. She was unfailingly lenient and generously charitable towards Pam, allowing the blonde to exercise her autonomy and independence as she saw fit. And yet, despite allowing Pam such illimitable freedom, she was still fiercely insistent upon Pam's care, tending to the blonde's every need however mundane.

What bewildered Mrs. Mackenzie somewhat was that Tara could execute such insistence without once undermining Pam's sovereignty or patronizing her in any way.

The matronly woman had never seen such a cemented display of devotion.

It warmed her heart to see Pam so lovingly taken care of.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity to allow herself a moment alone with Pam's intended, the matronly woman ambled across the room, the ample fabrics of her full skirt rasping against each other in a rather enticing manner.

"Ms. Thornton," she greeted cordially.

Tara turned to her host and bowed respectfully. "Ma'am."

Mrs. Mackenzie did not miss the look of fierce longing graven on the immortal features of Tara's face as the vampire was forced to focus her attention on her.

She wondered what it was like to love another so completely.

"I didn't think it possible but you look more enchanted by her than when we last met."

Tara smiled, a charismatic combination of shy, unapologetic and helplessly resigned. "She beguiles me," she admitted freely.

"Does she feel like home to you?" Mrs. Mackenzie bluntly asked.

The vampire's resounding smile, the way those fathomless dark eyes became fiercely iridescent with love and the way the immortal features of her face visibly softened as she stole another lingering glance at Pam was all the answer Mrs. Mackenzie needed to know.

"She _is_ home," Tara breathed out, her Southern drawl reverent. She turned and gazed steadfastly into a pair of scintillating emerald eyes. "It is a truth I wish to make universally known that Ms. Beaufort is _everything_ to me."

"And what was it about fair Ms. Beaufort that won you?" her host inquired, genuine curiosity coating her tone. She settled a shoulder against the wall Tara propped herself against. "Surely, you are not about to illuminate me with the absurd notion that you found her taciturn addresses pleasing."

Tara chortled. "Though she can be rather an oxythymous individual, I admire her bold ability to speak her mind." Dark eyes flitted instinctively over to Pam when the blonde's soft, melodious laugh floated over her, pleasing her ears with its jubilant notes.

"She is…strong," Tara offered, tongue tripping slightly as she sought for the proper adjective. Eyes never leaving her mate, she continued. "And willful though she may be, she is not without reason. She will oblige you with the opportunity to enlarge upon a subject that may be cause for contention." A small smile flirted with dark pink lips as Tara indulged briefly in the memories of many a heated discussion she had engaged in with Pam.

"Pamela is obstinate to a fault," Mrs. Mackenzie put in, though not unkindly. She couldn't help but smile when Tara grinned widely at her.

"Yes. Have no doubt that we are unisonous on that matter," Tara laughed as she turned back to her host. "Pamela may be quick to temper and quicker still to stifle feelings that may prove too overwhelming. However, when the opportunity strikes her, she can be vitative and passionate. She has her moods, easily falls into brooding strops and is no stranger to mordacity but she is also jocoserious, considerate and kind."

Tara paused as she glanced back over at Pam, longing, desire, need and passion playing unashamedly across her face.

She was silent for a long moment after her address, the air around her almost buzzing from the intensity of the emotions flickering over her immortal features.

Mrs. Mackenzie found that she couldn't have spoken in that moment, even if she wanted to.

"Look at her," Tara finally whispered, her voice hushed, painfully reverent, dark eyes so full to bursting with love that it broke Mrs. Mackenzie's heart. "Have you ever seen anything more apodictically beautiful?"

"You love her," her host concluded softly.

Tara nodded. "I love her."

She returned a dark gaze onto her host, letting the matronly woman see the truth of her words reflecting in those ink-soaked pools. "She is indispensable to my happiness."

"Do you intend to ask for her hand?"

Tara started at this, her expression melting into one of bewilderment as though she could not comprehend the manner in which Mrs. Mackenzie spoke.

The vampire blinked up at her host. Her jaw worked, a muscle jumping erratically as she sought to cotton together her suddenly scattered thoughts.

Then, bewilderment gave way to understanding before it twisted into a mask that was decidedly bittersweet. She swiveled her gaze back to Pam, took a moment to observe the easy manner in which her mate reclined in the chair, one hand absentmindedly, delicately, brushing away stray wisps of corn-silk hair as lush, full crimson lips moved under the orchestration of words that Tara had no doubt were mesmerizingly eloquent and beautifully constructed.

"Women cannot marry each other."

"According to who?"

Tara turned and fixed a dark stare onto wrinkle rimmed emerald eyes. "The law," she stated soberly, her tone just a little bitter. "The church." A pause. "God."

"You leave God out of this," Mrs. Mackenzie admonished softly. "Scripture was written by man and man has, since the dawn of time, been known to take to heart only what they deem they can use to wield and manipulate to their own advantage."

Tara inclined her head, unable to disagree. As a vampire, she had personally played witness to just how many times religion had been manipulated for one's own means.

Mrs. Mackenzie looked hard into Tara's seemingly endless pools of midnight. "There are other manners, other arrangements you can utilize to express your commitment to each other." She reached out, clapped a wrinkled, liver-spotted but deceptively strong hand on Tara's shoulder and squeezed gently, earning her a small smile. "However, before you approach Pamela with such formal a request, I expect you to pay me the compliment of a visit to formally ask for her hand. Is that understood?"

Tara ducked her head, if only to hide a pleased smile that stamped itself over an adorably humble expression. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Mrs. Mackenzie squeezed again at the strong shoulder beneath her hand. "Now," she said, bending slightly to whisper into a dusky ear. "Go be with your beloved. She asks for you."

Tara turned once more and found Pam looking at her, eyes bluer than the deepest ocean locked onto her own fathomless pools of pitch.

She smiled.

"If you'll excuse me," Tara murmured, already distracted by the warm and inviting smile Pam sent her way. She executed a clumsy bow, dark eyes refusing to relent on its gaze upon the striking blonde.

"Be off with you," Mrs. Mackenzie shooed though there was deep affection in her voice. She watched, heart full and her soul at ease as Tara navigated through the room and came to a stop by the side of Pam's armchair.

Emerald tinged eyes brimmed with fondness edged with slight envy as Tara simply went down on one knee before Pam, acting as though such subservient a position before the blonde was as natural as drawing breath.

She observed the way Tara reached up to caress a snow-kissed cheek, stroking imaginary lines down soft skin in a manner that was so achingly tender her own eyes smarted.

Mrs. Mackenzie watched as Pam reciprocated in turn, bending to brush a kiss across a dark cheek before simply gazing at Tara as though she were something no less than wholly and utterly precious.

She watched.

Then, when Tara tilted her head up and placed a chaste kiss to Pam's full crimson lips, Mrs. Mackenzie forced herself to look away, feeling as though such private and intimate a moment saturated with unadulterated love should only be witnessed by the couple engineering it.

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"You're sure you won't join us for midnight mass?" Mrs. Mackenzie pressed one last time as she ambled over to Pam and Tara, two lumpy parcels tucked under her arm.

Tara smiled. "Thank you, but we've a bit of a journey ahead of us and the weather grows increasingly chill as we speak." She helped Pam into her travel cloak, closing the steel clasps and securing the garment around the blonde's lithe frame. "I've no desire to expose Pamela to the frigid elements for longer than necessary."

Mrs. Mackenzie nodded, approval glittering in her eyes at Tara's explanation. "Safe travels to both of you, then." She held out the packages for Tara to take. "A very Merry Christmas to you, Ms. Thornton. I hope you and Pamela find the gifts pleasing."

Tara took the parcels, joy blazing deep in the dark of her eyes. She bowed, straightened then slipped on her top hat. "Thank you for the gifts and the wonderful evening, ma'am. It was an honor, truly."

"Yes," Pam chimed in as she took a step forward and hugged Mrs. Mackenzie, gracing the older woman with a kiss to the cheek. "I was so glad for your company this evening, Ada. Thank you."

Mrs. Mackenzie smiled. "It's good to see you taken care of, Pamela. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Pam replied in turn. "And good tidings to you and your family."

Mrs. Mackenzie watched as Tara escorted Pam out the door and down to the carriage that patiently awaited. She watched as Tara assisted Pam into the vehicle before climbing in after her.

When the pair's carriage took off at a steady clip, the percussion of hooves against the cobblestoned ground echoing through the fog-smeared air, Mrs. Mackenzie smiled, inhaled deeply the crisp, stiff air tinged with brine and ice then headed out to join her family for Christmas midnight mass.

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Tara pushed open the heavy front door of her capacious residence, Pam lingering behind her, a somnolent expression clouding the aristocratic feature of her face.

Tara paused when she heard the low keen of Pam's yawn. Pivoting, she used the hand not currently occupied with the handling of Pam's traveling carpet bag and the gifts from Mrs. Mackenzie to reach up and gently caress a warm, pale cheek.

"Are you alright, my angel?"

Pam nodded and smiled and it was a drowsy, sleepy kind of smile that momentarily lent her an angelic innocence.

The sight of it caused Tara's unbeating heart to clench and she was helpless against the urge to lean in and sip softly at Pam's lips, suppressing a moan as the blonde's intoxicatingly feminine scene of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla whispered past the seams of her lips.

"Shall I carry you to your chambers, Pamela?"

Pam scowled at this though the bashful look in her eye ruined the effect. "Don't you dare. I am perfectly capable of walking."

"And we're back to that subject, are we?" Tara replied in a droll tone even as her dark eyes twinkled mischievously at Pam when the blonde sent her way, a feigned disapproving stare. She ghosted a kiss to crimson lips then turned and pushed the heavy door further open. "Come on inside, Princess."

Tara allowed Pam in first before following suit.

The pair was instantly greeted by Tara's housekeeper, Mrs. Brice.

The tall, willowy woman was attired in a modest forest-green long-sleeved tea gown, chestnut hair parted in the center with two braids that ran down either side of her head and joining together around a somewhat unkempt bun at the back of her head.

She sat on an ornate chair against the wall by the long, rectangular hallway table, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, intelligent caesious hued eyes skimming diligently across the pages of the book on her lap.

Mrs. Brice looked up when Tara and Pam stepped into the expansive hallway.

Tara huffed in affectionate exasperation at the sight of her housekeeper and closed the door behind her before wandering over to gently kiss Mrs. Brice on the cheek.

"I informed you earlier this evening that there was no need for you to wait up," Tara chided softly as she set Pam's bag down by her feet and the two lumpy packages on the hallway table. "I told you, did I not, that we would most likely arrive at a late hour?"

"A Merry Christmas to you too, Ms. Thornton," Mrs. Brice drawled nonchalantly. She closed the book she had been reading, stood and patted Tara's cheek in maternal affection. "And yes, you did. I simply chose to ignore your impertinent request."

Tara rolled her eyes and behind her, Pam let loose a small snicker. Remembering her manners, Tara drifted over to Pam, took a pale hand into her own then guided the blonde towards Mrs. Brice.

"You remember Ms. Beaufort," Tara said by way of introducing Pam to her housekeeper.

"I do." Mrs. Brice turned a kind smile onto Pam who smiled congenially if somewhat shyly in response. "Merry Christmas, Ms. Beaufort."

"Merry Christmas, ma'am."

"Mrs. Brice," the housekeeper corrected as she reached out took Pam's warm hand in her own. She gave it a gentle squeeze. "Ms. Thornton does not stand on formality in her home." She gave Pam's hand another squeeze then released it. "I'm sure you are manifestly exhausted from your journeys this evening. There is a room ready for you. I've had the maids prepare the summer room in the north wing," she added, directing this piece of information towards Tara.

The vampire nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Brice." She pivoted to face the hallway table, found two four-branched candelabrums equipped with fresh candles. She lit them with the box of matches found in the drawers then handed one to her housekeeper.

"It's late. We should all retire for the evening."

Mrs. Brice took the proffered object and inclined in head in agreement. "Off you both scoot then. I'll turn out the lights." She smiled at the pair. "I bid you both a good night."

Pam and Tara echoed the housekeeper's sentiments, Tara dropping another kiss to Mrs. Brice's cheek before she bent, retrieved Pam's carpet bag then indicated for the blonde to take her arm.

"Oh, might you deposit those packages under the tree before you retire?" Tara inquired, turning a warm gaze onto her housekeeper before smiling at Pam who sidled up to her and curled a hand around her elbow.

Mrs. Brice nodded, scooped up the packages and tucked them under her arm. "Certainly."

The trio parted ways, Mrs. Brice veering right down a dark foyer.

Tara guided Pam straight through the entrance hall towards a grand staircase that yawned upwards towards a sprawling landing before banking both left and right. She escorted Pam up the stairs, turned them left then continued their ascension to the second floor, the light from the candles on the candelabrum she held in her hand pushing stubbornly albeit rather futilely against the dark whorls of shadows that permeated the darkened house.

Tara was confident in her steps though, gliding through the dark carpet lined hallways with an ease and familiarity that bespoke of her intimate attachment to the residence.

Pam allowed Tara to lead and her mind to wander, knowing that the vampire would not let her trip, slip or fall. Cobalt blue eyes were curious, inquisitive as they flitted over to painting, weapon and tapestry lined walls, the odd suit of armor and hallway tables laden with displays of what Pam could only assume were items and objects from Tara's many vast travels.

"Here we are."

Tara brought them to a gentle halt in front of a solid carved walnut door with a polished brass handle. She set the candelabrum down by a small mahogany circular lamp table with three splayed legs next to the door, Pam's bag onto the floor by her feet then held a hand.

Pam smiled and took it, sighing as Tara tugged her gently into the shelter of her arms, instantly engulfing her with the bouquet of musk, cloves and sandalwood.

"I'll say good night, my beautiful angel," Tara murmured as she nuzzled her nose into Pam's neck, taking deep pulls of the blonde's unique scent, releasing a low moan as she went. Ebony hands ran a soothing course down Pam's back over the travel cloak she still wore.

Pam wrapped her arms around Tara's neck in turn, shivering slightly as the vampire pressed her lips against suddenly vigorously animated pulse point. She turned and dropped a kiss to the side of Tara's head, lips lingering on satiny tresses soaked in night and kissed by ocean tints of blue and green.

Tara pressed her lips into the hollow of Pam's throat, then to the line of a delicate jaw. She grazed a string of kisses up to the nook behind Pam's ear then back down the plane of a smooth, warm and soft cheek before finally capturing Pam's mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss that threatened to send them both ablaze.

"Tara," Pam panted, choking back a heady moan as the vampire distended her fangs, abraded them teasingly yet cautiously over her full bottom lip.

Pam knew that being in such close proximity to such deadly canines should have given her cause to pause and contemplate the irrationality of the situation, the very real danger she was willingly putting herself in.

However, as Tara took possession of her mouth once more, crowding their burning kiss with hints of fang and tongue, the blonde wanted nothing more than to stay in the cool, strong embrace of her dark savior and sip wantonly from that lush mouth that so expertly made her ache.

Pam whimpered as Tara trailed a string of kisses down the side of her neck, her lips undeniably cool but where it touched her pale skin, flash fires of desire ignited, branding a residual impression of Tara's lips in their wake.

When Tara felt Pam's knees buckle, felt the blonde dig unrelenting fingers into her shoulders, she growled, lightly grazed her fangs over a carotid vein that was throbbing and rich with blood that sang the most seductive of songs to her ravenous beast.

She growled, a low, dangerous sound concocted from raw, sheer need.

Pam trembled in response.

"Tara…"

The vampire pulled back at the hoarse, almost guttural utterance of her name, silencing her beast that howled in agony at being denied the taste of its mate's blood, her fangs all but spitting with rage as they struck note after painful note against her gums.

Tara forced them to retract, sought for a pair of mercurial blue eyes and allowed herself to find comfort, reprieve in the love and passion she found in those sapphire pools.

Pam palmed Tara's cheek, feeling acutely just how coiled Tara's body was against hers, how the vampire shook under a transport of primal dissatisfaction, incendiary desire and unquenchable need.

She stroked long, supple fingers over dark, cool flesh, soothing Tara with each caress.

Tara leaned into her mate's touch, eyes hooding and a near silent sigh whispering from tumid lips.

"I'll say good night," she repeated softly, turning to kiss the inside of Pam's palm.

Pam opened her mouth, hesitated then closed it without saying anything.

"What is it?" Tara queried, sharp eyes catching the manner in which a question seem to burn on the tip of the blonde's tongue before being extinguished by a mental dismissal. She nuzzled into the warm hand on her cheek. "Tell me," she implored, voice quiet.

"I..."

Tara waited, having patience in spades. Dark eyes were openly non-judgmental, soothing and fiercely loving as they latched onto twin whorls of steel-gray and winter-blue.

"I don't want to sleep alone," Pam admitted, voice carrying equal measures of shame for so boldly expressing a weakness and resignation that such an admission couldn't not be vocalized.

Tara reached up, plucked the hand Pam had alighted on her cheek then cradled it in her own. She brought it to her lips, kissed the tip of each finger, the blonde quivering each time her lips made contact.

"And how do you wish for me to go about remedying that forlorn plea, Princess?" Tara asked softly. She turned the pale hand she held so lovingly in her palm, bent and pressed a kiss to the inside of Pam's wrist. "What would you have of me, tonight?"

Blue eyes bore into wells of ink. "What you conduct in my own personal chambers each night."

Tara pressed another kiss, this time to the top of Pam's hand. "And what will happen come morning when the members of my household find you not in your chambers but in mine instead, Pamela?"

The vampire stepped back, enough so that midnight kissed eyes could lock onto iridescent orbs of Prussian blue. She did not released Pam's hand though, choosing instead to tangle their fingers.

"Does it matter?" the blonde asked, her voice quiet.

"It matters, Pamela. _You_ matter."

Pam shook her head, once again inexplicably touched by Tara's careful regard of her reputation and character even though her profession had long since tainted it to the condemnatory eyes of society.

It was the manner in which Tara valued honor and justice, subscribed to chivalry and righteousness that made her hopelessly enthralling to Pam. Traits that some saw as antiquated, Tara instead coveted, honed and executed with an expert, skilled hand.

The ancient part of Tara, the part that still paid benevolent homage to such sensibilities simultaneously embrangled, enchanted and exasperated Pam to no end.

The blonde leaned in, brushed her lips against a full, dark pink mouth.

"I do not wish to sleep alone tonight, Tara." Blue eyes were beseeching as they stared into an abyss of ink and midnight. "I do not desire to wake up alone."

Tara's heart twisted at the soft plea. Lifting the snow-white hand she still cradled so gently in her palm, she dropped another kiss onto pale knuckles.

"Okay," the vampire whispered. She drew Pam back into her arms, let the impossibly unique bouquet of lavender, honeysuckle and that one lone strand of vanilla to twine around her like her arms did around her mate.

Tara held Pam close, held her as though she couldn't fathom the thought of letting her go.

She feathered a kiss, just one kiss, to a warm, soft cheek, letting her lips linger.

"Okay."

**TBC**


	20. Her Greatest Gift Of All

**A/N** – This chapter is so late. I'm so sorry for that but I've been busy clearing off my workload so I can go on vacation next week. Speaking of which, updates for this story will be sporadic up until the last week of August because I will be on the road for the next couple of weeks and won't have immediate access to the internet. I'll try for an update a week but I can't guarantee anything. Just to let those who are following the story know, alright? I'm not torturing you, I'm just going on vacation where access to the net is tentative at best.

Thank you to all who read and those who read and left a review. It's all very much appreciated. Now, without further ado, here's the next chapter. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 20 – Her Greatest Gift Of All**

Pam awoke to Tara's cool embrace.

Full crimson lips immediately curved, a languid arc that manifested into a sleepy if delighted smile as her lithe body kissed by snow instinctively snuggled deeper into the protective shelter of those beautifully sculpted arms.

Tara's scent crooned to her, whispers of musk, cloves and sandalwood murmuring warmth and safety and love, prolonging her stay in that blissful state where her mind lay suspended between the realms sleep and wakefulness.

She burrowed further into those arms, sinking almost helplessly into the vampire's embrace, her body naturally molding itself against the womanly curves and prominent musculature that comprised of Tara's sinewy frame.

Power spiked in the air, a sudden starburst of wild, indomitable energy, Tara's dormant body subliminally responding to its mate's innate need for comfort. It made the shadow choked air hum, a low thrum of power that was almost palpable, skating over Pam's reclining frame, a lullaby of strength and security.

Pam sighed, turned in the circle of those ebony arms currently concealed beneath the long sleeves of a forest green sleep tunic and tucked her head contently beneath Tara's chin.

The arms around her tightened in response. It was a visceral reaction, Tara's body driven by the vehicle of primal instincts, answering to its mate's call for tactile communication.

Pam nuzzled her cheek against Tara's sleep tunic, drawing from it, torpid fragments of her earthy, spicy scent. The decadent combination of musk, cloves and sandalwood whispered to her, soothed her.

It anchored her, calmed her. Informed her that she was safe, protected, loved.

Pam pressed a somnolent kiss to the skin beneath her lips, azure blue eyes blinking slowly open as her slooming mind finally broke through the surface of consciousness.

Shadows greeted her, nurtured by the weak spill of aurulent lamp light that peeked through the partially drawn thick drapes that encircled the circumference of Tara's expansive, sprawling hand carved oak four poster bed. The mattress Pam and Tara currently rested on was vast enough to keep Tara's side of the bed shrouded in darkness, shadows outlining the sinewy frame Pam was currently, intimately pressed up against.

Pam smiled, a slow arc of tumid lips that put twin sparks of happiness in the blue of her eyes.

She bestowed upon Tara another kiss, directly over the jut of the vampire's collarbone. Then, she raised her head, her sleep-mused blonde hair tangled around the aristocratic features of her face that still bore the remnants of sleep.

Cerulean blue eyes glowed like sapphire stones set aflame as they settled a tender gaze upon the sleeping figure that was her dark savior.

For a long moment, Pam allowed herself to stare.

Tara was on her side, arms coiled around Pam's waist in a manner that was both loving and possessive. She was eerily still, the immortal features of her face calmer than the motionless surface of a lake, her chest unmoving.

Though somewhat disquieted by how deep in slumber Tara was, how she literally slept the sleep of the dead, Pam couldn't help but find her utterly mesmerizing as she lay next to her, keeping her solemn vow to hold Pam throughout the night.

A pale hand reached up, hesitated then alighted with aching tenderness on a cool, dark cheek. Blue eyes were hopelessly enchanted and nakedly enthralled as she ran the pads of her fingers down the expanse of cool, soft skin, marveling at the smoothness she found.

"You're staring."

Pam started, hand falling away from Tara's face, the sound of the vampire's low alto, husky from disuse, drifted out from tumid lips to tease her ears.

"Sorry," Tara murmured drowsily. Eyes still closed, she reached up with a sluggish hand, searching clumsily before she found the hand Pam previously had on her cheek. Lacing their fingers together, she lifted it slowly to her lips, dropped a languorous kiss to the heart of a pale palm.

"How long have you been awake?" Pam asked quietly as she took to playing with the midnight kissed fingers Tara had tangled around her own pale ones.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, the pull of Sleep rendering her speech to maunder and limbs heavy and loose.

However, despite the lethargy that spun a seductive web around her sinewy frame, poisoning her veins with the temptation of slumber, Tara managed to roll Pam over and onto her back. She pressed gently down on the soft body of feminine curves, wanting, _needing_, to feel all of Pam against all of her.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice almost lost under the deep purr that emanated from deep within her chest as she buried her face into the nook of Pam's neck, deliberately nosing around for that powerfully feminine scent of lavender and honeysuckle. When that lone strand of vanilla coiled languidly around her senses, she moaned absentmindedly and clutched Pam closer to her.

"Good morning," Pam whispered softly. She reached up and buried a hand into the thick, messy mop of Tara's ink-soaked tresses kissed by ocean tints of blue and green, gently sifting through the silky strands. "Merry Christmas, Tara."

Tara grunted and mumbled another burst of maunder into Pam's neck. Tumid lips of dusky pink dragged lazy kisses over alabaster skin, deep purrs punctuating the near silent gasps suddenly spilling from Pam's mouth as Tara followed her sleepy kisses with equally languid swipes of her tongue.

"You're not truly awake, are you?" Pam mused as she tunneled sure but careful fingers through Tara's thick hair, her cadence low with the beginnings of a smoldering arousal that made feminine parts of her ache.

Tara grunted once more in response and began trailing wet, open mouthed kisses upwards, her body now half splayed over Pam's, effectively pinning her to the mattress.

"How very articulate, sweetheart," Pam teased, her tone amused. She scratched gently at Tara's scalp, procuring from the vampire, a long, deep purr that vibrated straight from Tara's chest into her own.

She smiled at the rumbling sensation, thoroughly enjoying this manifestation of a half-cognizant Tara that presently seemed more in touch with her primitive nature than when she was fully awake and aware.

Fully cognizant, Tara would never have let loose her inhibitions in such demonstrative a manner with Pam. She was too respectful, too aware of the ideals of honor and chivalry that she diligently bequeathed upon her mate.

But now, half lost to the seductive siren song of slumber, she allowed her beast rudimentary control of her actions.

It was evident in the way her lissome body pressed unapologetically, sensuously against Pam's soft curves, never once coiling up in tension as she laved teasing bites and burning kisses to the column of a pale neck.

It was evident in the manner in which she held Pam down. Her embrace was a little tighter, a little stronger, a little more possessive, her kisses more ardent, more demanding.

Pam's breath hitched when clumsy fingers kissed by night tugged playfully, teasingly at the knot that held the strings of her nightgown closed at the base of her throat.

"Tara…"

The vampire moaned at the husky, wanton manner in which her name spilled from Pam's lips. She forced her hand away, skimmed the pads of her fingers up the column of Pam's throat, traced the line of a delicate jaw before moving it up to palm a pale warm cheek.

Feathering one last kiss to an erratic pulse that kicked in response to the intimate touch, she lazily lifted her head from the nook of Pam's neck, blinked open sleepy eyes of India ink and brought her face before Pam's.

With their faces in such close proximity to each other, their noses almost touched, Pam's warm breath mingling with Tara's cool one.

Tara offered Pam a lopsided, lethargic little half-smile as she stared into deep pools of sapphire, her own midnight kissed eyes penetrating, unapologetic.

Pam shivered beneath that cool, sinewy body as Tara's power snapped into the air once more, turning the atmosphere viscous with electricity. It skated shivers down her arms, leave a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.

Looking into Tara's eyes was akin to staring in the face of some magnificent, fearsome beast. It was the most disconcerting feeling, the twin currents of both sheer awe and instinctive trepidation that ran rampant down her veins.

Pam knew Tara would never harm her, would never so much as lay a hand on her in violence or anger but that did not stop the dormant part of her, the part of her that was prey to Tara's predator from raising its wary head.

Tara stared at Pam, head cocking in a manner that decidedly animalistic. The smile fell away as her dark gaze grew in intensity. Obsidian eyes were studying, searching, caressing Pam's face in a manner that was brazen and possessive.

Then, Tara leaned in and nudged her nose to Pam's, her mane of atrous hair swinging gently from side to side as she nuzzled the tip of her nose to Pam's.

"Beautiful."

Tara's voice was sub-vocal, words rumbling almost incoherently against the growl-like manner in which her Southern lilt jangled against.

Pam shuddered, Tara's low alto stirring desire and want through her veins. She closed the distance between their lips until their mouths were a hairsbreadth from contact.

"Kiss me, Tara."

Tara growled softly but instead of complying moved her head to the side. She rubbed her cheek against Pam's, cool skin skating across soft, warm, sleep-flushed skin of snow.

"Mine?"

The declaration of possession came constructed as a question, as though Tara needed Pam's confirmation before she cemented resolution into such covetous a claim.

Hearing the need in Tara's voice, Pam reached up with a hand, pressed her palm gently to Tara's exposed cheek and used it to guide dark eyes back onto her own orbs of sapphire.

Tara stared at her, head cocking once more, eyes inquisitive and drowsy.

"Mine?" the vampire asked again, an almost childlike quality to her tone.

Pam nodded and caressed Tara's cheek, an indulgent smile tugging at her lips as Tara immediately leaned into her touch. "Completely."

Tara smiled at this, a disconcerting smile that was all at once feral satisfaction and languid innocence. She pressed a chaste kiss to Pam's lips in reward, then another to the corner of her mouth before moving to feather butterfly kisses all over her mate's face.

Pam sank back into the mattress and the legion of overstuffed pillows Tara seemed to favor as the vampire set about loving every inch of her face with cool kisses that left her skin smoldering. She stroked Tara's cheek in turn, playing long, supple fingers down the expanse of a shockingly smooth cheek.

Pale fingers began a tactile memorization of the immortal features of Tara's face as Tara's lips did the same to hers. She thumbed a prominent cheekbone, traced the line of a strong jaw, dragging her fingers upwards from Tara's chin to where her jaw ended beneath a dusky earlobe.

Pam frowned when she touched upon something wet at the top of Tara's jawline.

"You're bleeding."

The tips of Pam's fingers came away with smears of crimson as the blonde brought them to her line of sight.

"The Bleeds," was Tara's mumbled explanation before she resumed her deposit of feather-light kisses over Pam's now furrowed brow. "Not supposed...awake…during the day."

Pam didn't answer, too busy staring at her blood-stained finger tips. She could almost feel Tara's unapologetic power in those scarlet smears, so much so that her skin tingled as though reacting to some potent drug.

She was disquieted to find that a small of part of her wanted to taste that raw, indomitable power on her tongue, feel it slide like liquid velvet down her throat, nourishing her veins with its potency.

Before Pam knew what she was doing, she had brought her blood-stained fingers to her lips.

Only to have her unconscious intention halted by Tara.

"No."

The vampire locked limber fingers around a delicate wrist. Bracing herself on an elbow, she stared down at Pam, dark eyes suddenly more animate as they were unreadable.

Tara searched those vivid pools of cerulean lying inches from her own pools of ink.

Pam stared at Tara in turn, wondering what ruminations were suddenly running rampant through the vampire's head.

However, before Pam could open her mouth to ask, Tara brought Pam's crimson coated fingers to her mouth and proceeded to suckle each bloody smear from pale fingertips.

Pam's desirous moan came about unbidden as her fingers were suddenly enveloped in the tepid cavern of Tara's mouth, Tara's light suckling on her fingers creating the most delicious of aches between her legs.

"Tara..."

Tara didn't respond, simply cleaned off her blood from Pam's fingers with light sucks and deliberate swipes of her tongue. Her task done, she released the pale digits from the confines of her mouth and kissed each one.

"You should go," she informed Pam softly, feeling a wetness begin in her left nostril. She inhaled discreetly, hoping to keep that trickle of blood at bay. "It's time I relinquish you to the warm light of day."

Pam heard the tiredness in Tara's voice, could feel in the manner in which Tara's grip around her wrist began to slacken.

Mirroring Tara's actions earlier, she rolled Tara onto her back and brushed stray wisps of dark hair off her forehead.

"Go back to sleep, Tara."

Pam bent, brushed a painfully tender kiss to dusky pink lips, lingered long enough to allow the scent of musk, cloves and sandalwood to infuse into her taste buds then pulled back.

It was as though Tara were awaiting for that line of permission to fall from Pam's lips. Her body grew pliant in response, cognizance beginning to trickle out of her as Pam stroked her cheek, murmuring low words of love in a tone that was deliberately soft and lulling.

Tara smiled sleepily and turned on her side, facing Pam. One hand reached out, fingers splaying outwards, searching for its quarry. Reaching the edges of Pam's pillow, Tara tugged it closer to her then buried her face in it, body stilling once more as she allowed Sleep to pull her back under.

Pam watched Tara descend willingly back into Orpheus' embrace, the aristocratic features of her face fierce with unabashed love. She tucked an errant lock of dark hair behind Tara's ear and pressed a soft kiss to a cool cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Tara. I'll see you at the dimming of the day."

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Pam was sequestered in the conservatory on a beautifully designed cushioned blue-gray cast iron garden chair comprised of intricate knots and swirls. Sunlight spilled through the glass walls and ceiling, streaking across the marbled floors and infusing warmth into a lithe frame clad in a simple but tasteful long sleeved powder-blue high collar blouse and a full black walking skirt.

"Here you are, Ms. Beaufort."

Mrs. Brice's melodious voice drifted languorously into the room, a soft trickle of notes that instinctively put Pam at ease.

The blonde turned in response, azure blue eyes observing the easy manner in which Tara's housekeeper ambled towards her, a silver breakfast tray locked between her hands.

"Thank you," Pam said as Mrs. Brice set her breakfast down on the circular glass top cast iron table with three elegant curved legs.

Mrs. Brice smiled warmly in response and began removing the cloches covering the various plates on the tray.

A small, pleased smile threatened to stretch tumid lips into a full blown grin as a hot plate of sausage, eggs and black pudding were revealed, followed by a small steaming bowl of brose. A toast rack, bowl of fresh fruit medley and a pot of tea completed Pam's breakfast tray.

It was a breakfast comprised of all of Pam's favorite foods.

Crimson lips curvulated another inch.

Tara _always_ thought of everything.

"Ms. Thornton informed of your dietary likes and dislikes," Mrs. Brice offered kindly as she poured Pam a cup of Earl Grey into a teacup dressed with a slice of lemon on its rim. "She has also outfitted me with the task of ensuring you are well nourished throughout the day so if there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you," Pam murmured. She plucked a warm slice of golden-brown toast from the rack and began buttering it.

Mrs. Brice cleared away the cloches and smiled gently at Pam. "Enjoy your breakfast, Ms. Beaufort. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, ma'am...Mrs. Brice," Pam amended, smiling shyly when Tara's housekeeper sent her a pointed look.

The willowy housekeeper chortled softly and graced Pam with another fond smile before disappearing out of the conservatory, leaving the blonde alone with her ruminations and a breakfast tailor made to her preferences.

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Breakfast proved to be a culinary delight. Pam sat back against chair, full, satisfied and half lulled into a quiescent state by the delicious warmth of the sun that now poured in from all four corners, befitting the conservatory with its rightful title of sun room.

Soft footsteps whispered in the distance announcing Mrs. Brice's presence and Pam straightened her posture a notch, inbred aristocratic manners instinctively demanding she maintain a proper carriage in the face of company.

"Ms. Beaufort," Tara's housekeeper addressed by way of greeting.

"Hello."

Pam's smile was bashful, her eyes skating somewhat nervously back and forth between caesious eyes that twinkled kindly down at her.

The blonde's slight nervousness stemmed from her morning encounter with the willowy woman. As she did now, appearing when Pam had just polished off her breakfast, Mrs. Brice was there to greet Pam outside her temporary quarters, quarters Pam had reluctantly returned to after having pulled herself away from the drowsy warmth of Tara's bed.

It was as though the woman were gifted with a touch of clairvoyance. Her well timed appearances before her designated charge was almost unnerving in its precision and Pam couldn't help but flush slightly as she wondered just how much Mrs. Brice had been able to deduce about Pam's nighttime conduct with Tara when she had met her out in the hallway of her room.

"I trust everything was to your satisfaction?"

Mrs. Brice's melodious lilt, graced with just a hint of an accent Pam couldn't quite place, roused the blonde from her musings.

"It was delicious," Pam admitted as she forced herself to look up into the housekeeper's face despite the heat that still lingered on her cheeks. "Every morsel more delectable than the last. I thank you kindly for taking such great pains to attend to my appetite."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Brice scoffed. "You are Ms. Thornton's honored guest and as such, you are to be afforded the hospitalities of a revered visitor."

Pam's cheeks pinked at the simple admission. She smiled and ducked her head.

Mrs. Brice stared at Tara's mate for mere moments, easily able to distinguish just what had captured the vampire's eyes so.

Pam was beautiful, her wintry features giving off both an aloofness and warmth that was confounding if not enrapturing. Eyes the color of an arctic ocean was just as tempestuous and mercurial, vivid in its hues of blue and gray during both the day and night. There was a regal air about her, a touch of aristocracy that lingered despite the hardships Pam had gone through.

She was, in short, an enigmatic package wrapped in ivory and gold.

Mrs. Brice could understand Tara's fascination, the utter enchantment that would cause dark eyes to sparkle whenever the vampire allowed her mate's tongue to spill from her lips.

"You're making a study of me."

Pam felt those caesious on her. Though not judgmental, they were nonetheless studying, curious even.

Mrs. Brice started at Pam's husky lilt.

"I apologize, Ms. Beaufort."

The housekeeper's tone was sincere and contrite. She waited for glaucous blue eyes to meet with her own pools of pale blue-green then smiled softly when Pam looked at her. "If I may be so bold as to beg but a moment of your time?"

Curiosity had Pam cocking her head but before she could come to a decision, her hand was already gesticulating towards the empty chair across from her, inbred manners befitting those of upper class stock reacting instinctively to the request with a regal flourish of a pale hand.

"Please."

Mrs. Brice offered Pam a maternal smile and folded her willowy frame into the blue-gray cast iron chair.

"Is there a subject you wish to enlarge upon, ma'am?"

"Mrs. Brice," the housekeeper corrected, smiling indulgently as Pam smiled shyly at the gentle chide. "May we discuss the subject that is you?"

"Me?" Pam's eyes widened a fraction at the request. Then, realization dawned as she glimpsed the expression painted starkly across the graceful features of Mrs. Brice's face.

It was a look she had seen many a time on her father's face when would-be suitors would come to call, the look of a parent exercising his right to exert his dominion and authority over those that thought to seek his daughter's hand.

Pam smiled softly.

"You mean me in regards to Tara?"

Mrs. Brice smiled at the amendment of her address, glad Pam felt comfortable enough to engineer such a correction. "In a fashion," she admitted. "However, I was sincere in my request to get to know you better."

"How much of me has Tara disclosed to you?"

Pam knew Tara confided in Mrs. Brice, saw the housekeeper as a maternal figure of sorts.

"That your eesome beauty knows no bounds and you've a tongue like quicksilver," came the chuckled reply.

Pam blushed, cheeks tinting over with scarlet as Mrs. Brice's amused tone unfurled around her.

"She was not inaccurate when she professed to me that you were a beauty that beggared description." Mrs. Brice slid a hand across the table and gently patted the similarly pale hand Pam rested onto the tabletop. "You enchant her."

"And she enthralls me," Pam responded, her tone soft, cadence wondrous, reverent. She lifted her head and looked straight into those caesious tinted eyes. "What has Tara told you about my work?"

Mrs. Brice frowned at the suddenly somber tone that oiled Pam's husky lilt. "She informed me that you run your own business. As to the nature of the business, Ms. Thornton would not say."

"I run a brothel."

There. Four words that acted as the pegs that hung her dirty laundry out into the air between them.

Pam's eyes refused to relent from where they took up temporary residence against pale blue-green eyes. She had opened the doors to reveal the awful skeletons in her closet and could now take her comeuppance on the chin.

Mrs. Brice didn't so much as blink. Instead, she tightened long fingers around Pam's suddenly tense hand.

"You lead a hard life," the housekeeper said. "I can see the ennui in your eyes. The world has not been kind to you, has it?"

Pam looked away, almost unable to withstand the gentleness and understanding in Mrs. Brice's eyes. She had expected disgust, incredulousness, ridicule even. However, instead of having a slur cast upon her character, Mrs. Brice simply squeezed her hand in comfort.

"No." Pam finally answered after a moment of silence. Her voice was tremulous, tears burning the back of her throat. "It hasn't."

"Ms. Thornton divulged to me the reason for your being on the shores of America." Mrs. Brice scooted her chair closer to Pam, enough so that she was newly situated at the blonde's side. "A falling out with your family must have weighed heavily on your shoulders all these years."

"Did Tara reveal to you the nature of my family's disdain of me?" Pam inquired quietly, voice smoothing over with past pain that still felt as fresh as it did five long years ago.

"She informed me that you and your father came to blows regarding a matter that neither party could agree upon."

"He...caught me. With my lady's maid." Pam cinched her jaw, looking away once more. She wasn't exactly sure why she was revealing the sins of her past with an individual she hardly knew but then again, Mrs. Brice had a maternal air about her that loosened lips and wetted tongues.

"I see."

Pam flinched slightly when a calloused palm alighted on her cheek, pressing in a manner that forced the blonde to turn her head.

Blue eyes collided with intriguing shades of pale blue-green.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Mrs. Brice informed her softly. "Your father, if I may be so bold, was a fool to discard you for simply following your heart."

"He was trying to do right by me," Pam mumbled, unsure why she still so quick to rise to her estranged father's defense.

Mrs. Brice clucked her tongue. "Throwing your own flesh and blood out into the dark of night without so much as a penny to her name is not right. It is a cardinal sin." She pressed her palm firmer against Pam's pale, warm cheek. "He was wrong to treat you as such, Ms. Beaufort. He may not have understood your proclivities but neither should he have disregarded you in such callous a manner."

Pam shrugged and dropped a neutral mask over her face, a poor attempt at indifference. "I have put the past behind me. My father, my family, they are no longer concerns of mine. I don't exist to them."

"But they exist to you." Wise eyes searched Pam's face, the blonde unable to deny the truth of the housekeeper's words. "You still love them, yearn for them. Am I wrong?"

Pam wanted to deny the implication, wanted to scoff derisively and wave aside the ridiculous notion that she still longed for those familial ties that had been so abruptly severed.

But, she shook her head, the gesture all at once bitter and defeated.

"You could have a family here. With Tara. With us," Mrs. Brice told Pam softly. She caressed Pam's cheek tenderly then pulled her hand back. "We would welcome you with open arms. You know that, don't you?"

Pam swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, tears smarting her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but trying to convert intention to action proved futile as her throat closed up with emotion.

Mrs. Brice stood, understanding that Pam needed the relief of solitude to mull over the exchange of conversation that had transpired between them. She silently cleared Pam's breakfast tray, hoisted it up in her arms and glanced at Pam.

"If nothing else, remember that Tara loves you, Ms. Beaufort. She tells me herself, every night and I couldn't deny the ring of truth in her voice even if I tried."

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Pam closed the door to Tara's room with a soft snick, a weeping candle standing erect in the brass candle holder wobbling precariously as the blonde pivoted to face the shadow crowded room.

She took a moment to herself, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark, the lone candle she held barely making a dent in the shadows that ate up the majority of Tara's vast chamber.

Crimson lips involuntarily curved when whispers of musk, cloves and sandalwood coiled around her, greeting her like a soft caress. And though a small distance stretched between Pam and the expansive bed that Tara currently slumbered in, the vampire's power was no less potent, no less tangible as it sluiced over Pam, skimming down her blouse covered arms and causing the fine hair on the back of her neck to rise.

Pam sighed. She was learning to love the wild, untamed energy that was her mate's power, learning to love how it twined around her, drenched her senses, sending a lightning bolt of thrill and disquiet to course down her veins.

Pam padded over to the bed, currently concealed behind thick, heavy drapes that served as a last resort to keep out any accidental sunlight that might spill into the room.

Not that that scenario was probable given the secure manner in which Tara kept the lone oriel window decorating her room concealed before she rested.

Blue eyes happened over to the faux sliding panel that currently hid the window, barely able to pinpoint its precise location given the consuming darkness of the room.

But it was there. Tara had familiarized Pam with the layout of her sleeping quarters the night before, allowing Pam to indulge in a childish whimsy as she demonstrated the manner in which the faux panel would slide out from the behind the solid decorated wall and across the window to the wall on the right. When drawn, it gave the impression that the room was windowless and those unfamiliar with the workings of the sliding panel would be none the wiser.

Pam smiled as she came to a stop by the nightstand. Tara's sleeping chambers reminded her of medieval tales where castles were outfitted with hidden passageways and concealed doors.

Tara had such a door. The walled bookshelf at the far end of the room doubled as an entrance to another room, one that was securely 'light-tight' as the vampire had called it. It housed Tara's coffin, acted as Tara's secondary sleeping quarters should she desire to slumber in a manner befitting to a vampire.

Amusement flitted across the aristocratic features of Pam's face as she drew back the thick drapes, toed off her shoes and crawled under the covers, moving slowly, cautiously towards the curled up lump at the far end of the bed.

Bram Stoker wasn't incorrect when he wrote that vampires slumbered in coffins.

Pam reached Tara and released a gentle puff of charmed laughter when she found her mate curled around the pillow Pam had rested her head upon. The manner in which Tara clutched at the downy, overstuffed object was decidedly childish and the blonde couldn't help but grin in affectionate amusement as she regarded her still sleeping dark savior.

She scooted forward and molded herself to Tara's curved back, driven equally by the fierce yearning to hold Tara as she roused to wakefulness and the selfish need to be the first thing that Tara set her upon as she woke.

A pale arm wound around a trim waist, fingers splaying over abdominal muscles that were startlingly prominent despite Tara's slumberous state.

Pam shifted closer until she was pressed up against Tara. Then, nuzzling her nose into a messy mop of atrous hair, she simply indulged in the sensation of holding Tara and breathing in her raw, wild and earthy scent.

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Tara awoke to the euthermic heat of Pam's body, her own growing calescent in turn as it siphoned warmth from her mate.

She smiled, a tranquil, drowsy smile that made her look disconcertingly innocent and burrowed back into that lithe body of supple curves.

"Good evening."

Pam's voice was a low husk, caressing Tara's senses like velvet.

Dark eyes fluttered open, brows scrunching in momentary confusion as she was confronted with the bloated pillow she nearly choked to death in her sleep. She discarded it immediately, sculpted ebony arms unwinding around the pillow only to find purchase around a body of snow as she turned in Pam's embrace.

Pam chuckled as Tara rubbed her cheek against her shoulder and purred lowly. She cuddled Tara to her, loving how the vampire displayed all the characteristics of a languid, lazy cat when she first awoke.

"You were embracing that pillow so intimately, I was almost jealous," Pam whispered teasingly into a nearby dusky ear before dropping a kiss onto it.

"It smelled of you," Tara mumbled as she playfully tangled her legs around Pam's, pouting into a pale neck when Pam's skirts hindered her process.

Pam smiled into Tara's hair. Reaching up, she let her palm alight on a dark cheek, long fingers kissed by snow immediately stroking imaginary lines down midnight hued skin.

"Did you dream of me?"

Tara grinned and lifted her head to feather a clumsy kiss to the side of Pam's jaw. Then, she sought for eyes of sapphire, her own dark gaze openly enraptured as she finally met Pam's loving regard.

"Always."

Tara pressed another kiss, this time to Pam's chin before continuing. "But, as lovely and ethereal as your dream counterpart was, she pales in comparison to the real thing."

A third kiss, this time to full crimson lips, the contact soft and slow.

When Tara withdrew, both sets of lips were left smoldering.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

Pam's lips quirked. "Merry Christmas, Tara."

Tara propped her head onto a raised elbow. She used her other hand to caress Pam's face, sighing dreamily as the blonde instinctively leaned into her touch. "What did you do today?"

"I took a stroll through your magnificent gardens, full to bursting with colors and scents. It was quite the heady experience and just as visually appealing."

"I'm glad," Tara replied, voice soft, devout as she stared openly at Pam, eyes naked with affection. She brought her hand down to Pam's mouth, let a lone finger trace the curvature of a full lip. "What else did you do?"

"I sojourned in the library in the afternoon," Pam breathed out, shivering slightly as Tara thumbed her bottom lip. "Mrs. Brice had to fish me out for tea for I lost track of time."

Tara chortled, unsurprised by the admission. Pam loved her literature and Tara forever adored the manner in which the blonde would become hopelessly lost in a book, her face distant but content as cerulean blue eyes skated eagerly across a page of letters and punctuations.

"Did she care for you well, Mrs. Brice?" Tara inquired as she tilted her head up to accept a kiss Pam was not so subtly seeking.

"She did," Pam murmured around a torpid kiss, breath hitching slightly when Tara rolled her onto her back and hovered over her, sheets of ink-soaked hair with its ocean tints falling about her face like a curtain of silk. "She's an insightful woman, your Mrs. Brice," she added softly.

"Her family has been in my court for well over a century," Tara responded, voice a mere whisper as she gazed adoringly down at her mate, eyes brimming with unabashed love.

Pam nodded. She knew of the manner in which the members of Tara's household were tied to the vampire. They were all members of Tara's court, inducted into Tara's care and jurisdiction by way of pledging their fealty to her. In turn, they were cared for and protected under vampire law, their allegiance to Tara recognized and approved by the Vampire Authority. They were given houses to raise their families in, land to cultivate, careers to build upon, money to spend and invest.

Should intentional harm come to any member of her court, Tara was not only allowed but obliged to exact vengeance in their honor.

"She is loyal," Tara continued, bending to place a feather-light kiss to the corner of Pam's mouth.

"She loves you like her own," Pam observed, turning her head so that their lips collided. She whimpered when Tara initiated firmer contact, opening her mouth just wide enough to allow a full bottom crimson lip to slip between her own. She suckled at the tumid flesh, drawing from it wisps of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

"And I love her," Tara replied when she desisted her sensuous assault on Pam's now swollen and damp mouth. "Despite the centuries I have over her in age, she is like a mother to me."

"I know."

Pam reached up and brushed errant locks of impossibly dark hair away from where it crowded Tara's left eye. She smiled when Tara closed her eyes at her gentle ministrations. "Are you ready to greet the evening? We've a Christmas dinner to attend to shortly."

Tara's lips tugged upwards. She bent, brushed her lips over Pam's then smiled softly. "In a minute, angel. Permit me another minute to simply cherish you. Here. In my arms. In my bed."

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Tara tugged nervously at the stiff high stand collar encircling her neck as she came to a stop in front of the grand solid carved walnut door that led into Pam's temporary quarters.

The vampire was impeccably attired in a coordinated outfit of a pristine white high collar formal shirt beneath a striking emerald green double breasted waistcoat with faux silver buttons. A burgundy slim tie adorned her neck, complimenting the green of her waistcoat and paying homage to the colors of the festive time of the year.

Formal slim black cotton trousers outfitted her legs, falling neatly over polished black dress boots. A snug and tapered black evening tailcoat completed the devilishly handsome ensemble, hugging Tara's curves to tantalizing perfection.

She was sophisticated and urbane, a polished penny that only aided the low hums of unapologetic power that unfurled languidly from her sinewy frame.

Tara lifted a perfunctory hand and knocked softly, rapping her knuckles against the solid door twice before she returned the appendage to the side of her body.

Sensitive ears picked out the soft rustle of abundant fabric from the other side, teasing her senses with its musical sensuality, muffled heeled boot only adding to her almost overwhelming anticipation.

When the doors finally yawned open, Tara was sure that had she been human, the breath from her lungs would been robbed from her.

As such, the mesmerizing vision that was Pam appearing to stand framed by the threshold of the door robbed her of her tongue instead.

She openly gawked at her mate, her stunned gaze going so far as to have her mouth drop open slightly.

Pam was dressed in an off-shoulder evening gown that spilled down her lithe frame in a flowing, mercurial waterfall of crimson and wine. It contoured to every curve, emphasized the womanly silhouette that was Pam's elegant body, the off-shoulder straps revealing a pair of creamy shoulders that begged to be kissed. A pair of pristine white, elbow length gloves adorned her arms, adding a flawless kind of elegance to her attire.

The blonde wore no jewelry save for a finger wide rich emerald green ribbon that delicately encircled her neck, a makeshift choker that served as a nod to the Christmas season. Her hair was a corn silk mass of loose waves and curls, styled in a manner that gathered at the top of her head and fell in an elegant disarray down her back. Loose tendrils were deliberately left to frame an aristocratic face that were currently as enthralled she azure blue eyes took in the sight that was Tara.

"My god but I think you are the most heavenly being I have set my sights upon," Tara managed to choke out. She stumbled forward, almost tripping in her haste and reached down to grasp Pam's hand. Bestowing a soft but purposefully lingering kiss onto pale knuckles, she then bowed deep at the waist.

"There are no words, in any language new or old to describe how truly exquisite you are," the vampire breathed out reverently. She cradled Pam's hand in her palm, brushed a thumb over soft warm skin. "I'm beguiled beyond any hope of redemption, drowning in a sea of enchantment, a willing sacrifice to your irresistible allure. I'm slayed. Completely."

Pam blushed, a furious creep of heat that crawled up her neck to stain her cheeks scarlet. She ducked her head, Tara's enthralled gaze and bold words overwhelming.

"Look at me."

Two dark fingers tucked themselves under her chin, forcing Pam to raise her head.

She immediately fell into a pair of obsidian eyes as she looked up, Tara's gentle stare as palpable as the vampire's strong and secure embrace.

"You are beautiful, Pamela. Unapologetically so. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Pam's mouth arced into a small, joyous smile. She closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against Tara's. "And you look truly regal tonight, Tara. Such magnificence should prove impossible and yet here you stand, in all your sartorial splendor. I'm almost speechless from your radiance."

Tara grinned at the compliment and stole another kiss. Then, she held out an arm. "Might I have the privilege of escorting the more resplendent woman in all the land to dinner?"

Pam rolled her eyes but took Tara's proffered elbow.

"Flatterer," she admonished affectionately.

Tara simply beamed.

xxxxxxxx

Christmas dinner was a boisterous, rowdy, lively affair, set in the residence's most opulent ballroom of two-tier windows that stretched from inlaid parquet floors to an intrinsically painted ceiling. Gilded windows and golden ornamentation decorated the walls and spaces between each window, adding to the grandiose of the room.

A towering Christmas tree stood sentinel in the middle of the ballroom, easily surpassing twenty feet. Its branches were verdant with pines, voluptuous with greenery. The tree itself was bedecked with decorations that ranged from edible treats to handmade bric-a-brac. A lustrous star twinkled from the top of the tree, its five points glinting merrily off the artificial lights that lit the room.

Tara, Pam and all the members of Tara's household were gathered around a long dining table that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The furniture seemed to groan under the impressive array of mince pies, sugar plums, turkeys, hams, puddings, roast potatoes, vegetable medleys and various table centerpieces, cutleries and lit candelabrums.

Tara sat at the head of the table, a large pewter tankard at her elbow. A display of untouched china and crystal lay before her, set out for her as a manner of tradition during this festive period.

The vampire smiled at the organized chaos before her, endlessly bemused by the gentle ribbings and light teasing that befell upon the members of her court, speckling the air in a constant hum of overlapping conversations.

Her smile faltered slightly when she caught sight of Simone, who was thankfully sitting quite a ways away from her and her mate, staring somewhat morosely into her glass of mulled wine. The woman of Amazonian stature had vacillated between anger, resentment, confusion, sullenness, sadness and finally resignation when Tara took it upon herself to inform her that gently but firmly that their brief tryst had run its course.

Now, Simone was contemplating the notion of being released from service and though Tara mentally rebuked the idea, she knew it was well within Simone's rights to ask to be let go.

"Tara."

Dark eyes immediately swiveled sideways, Simone temporarily forgotten as Tara latched onto a pair of cobalt blue orbs that could only belong to Pam.

The blonde was holding out a Christmas cracker, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of lightly painted crimson lips.

Tara grinned in turn, grabbed the other end of the cracker and tugged.

A small pop echoed and the cracker snapped in half. Tumbling from it broken mouth was a tiny cloth doll with wheat colored hair and a peasant dress.

It was a darling little toy and Tara immediately scooped it off the table top and deposited it into Pam's hand where it lay snug in the heart of her palm.

"Pretty," Tara observed softly. She looked up at her mate, ink drenched eyes full with love. "Just like you."

Pam flushed but reached for Tara's hand. Tangling their fingers, she lifted their entwined hands and pressed a kiss to Tara's knuckles.

"Is the evening proving equal to your expectations?" Tara inquired cordially as she smiled fondly at Pam.

"It's exceeding them," Pam replied happily. She started slightly when a rousing chorus of Christmas carols broke out at the far end of the table then smiled and absentmindedly began humming along as she set her toy doll against the stem of her wine glass.

Tara smiled at the sincere response, entranced by how peaceful and at ease Pam looked at the present moment. She allowed herself a moment to visually trace the brumal features of her mate's face, imprinting to memory, the soft, indulgent smile that rode on the curvature of crimson painted lips, the delighted twinkle that winked at her from the depths of ocean blue eyes and the utter look of contentment and joy that painted stark lines across that aristocratic face.

"Pamela?"

Pam shivered at the fashion in which Tara breathed out her name. Coming from Tara's lips, her name sounded like a pious prayer, each letter etched with the vampire's unadulterated devotion.

Devotion she crafted solely for her.

"What is it, Tara?"

Tara graced her mate with a soft smile that born from a deep, pure love. She pushed back her chair, rounded the table's corner and came to a stop before Pam. She bowed respectfully then held out a genial hand.

"Will you come away with me for a moment?"

Pam answered by slipping her hand into Tara's cool one, sighing when limber fingers of midnight closed over the top of her hand. She allowed Tara to assist her out of her seat, allowed Tara to guide her towards the tall, impressive grand carved double doors.

One of Tara's stable boys bolted into the ballroom as the pair was about to exit and it was only due to Tara's preternatural speed that allowed for her to intercede the boy's near collision with Pam.

"Now, now, Nathan," Tara chided affectionately as she righted the pubescent boy barely on the cusp of manhood. "What has Mrs. Brice impressed upon you in regards to running about in the house?"

Nathan blushed and ducked his head, raven curls falling haphazardly over his forehead at the act. "To not do it," he mumbled bashfully.

Tara chuckled and cuffed him gently on the shoulder. "That's right. You'll do well to remember that, young man."

"Yes, miss."

Nathan smiled then edged around Tara when she stopped him by clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"You're forgetting something, Nathan."

Nathan looked at Tara, confusion flickering across his tawny eyes.

Tara's own midnight kissed eyes flicked upwards causing the boy's to follow.

When those large, tawny colored eyes settled upon a sprig of mistletoe dangling above his head and Pam's, he flushed a fierce shade of crimson.

"I believe you owe the lady a kiss," Tara prompted, amusement heavy in her tone as the boy began fidgeting nervously on the spot. She reached up, plucked a berry from the mistletoe dangling from the threshold and dropped it into Nathan's hand.

"Go on," she urged fondly. "It's tradition. Claim your kiss from Ms. Beaufort."

Pam, deeply amused herself by the familial exchange that transpired between Nathan and Tara, fought against the urge to let loose a throaty chortle as the stable boy shuffled reluctantly towards her, his cheeks growing redder with each step.

Deciding to put the boy out of his misery, Pam took the necessary steps forward, bent slightly and placed a soft kiss to his heated cheek, causing another deep stain of scarlet to spread over his freckled cheeks.

"Merry Christmas, Nathan."

"M-merry Christmas, miss," Nathan managed to stutter bashfully before he bolted back towards the dining table, Tara's gentle reproach about running indoors all but forgotten.

Pam laughed, a light trickle of melodious notes that was music to Tara's ears.

The vampire reached out, grabbed Pam's hand and tugged them both under the mistletoe.

"Might I have a kiss too, Ms. Beaufort?" Tara teased good-naturedly.

Pam smirked, slanted a gaze upwards then heaved a purposefully dramatic sigh as she came upon a significant observation. "Alas, while I wish for nothing more than to feel your lips on mine, I'm afraid the mistletoe is plum out of ripe berries." She grinned at Tara. "No berries, no kisses, Ms. Thornton. Are those not the rules?"

"They are," Tara answered, a cheeky smile stretching across the suddenly impish expression that bore down on the immortal features of her face. "However, I have outfitted myself with the necessary preparations should such a tragic occasion befall upon us."

Her spiel complete, Tara reached into her pocket, procuring from it, a small sprig of mistletoe with a single, lone berry nestled in the center.

She grinned rakishly at Pam and dangled the item between them, cocky satisfaction in her eyes.

Pam laughed at the sight, bemused endlessly by Tara's audacity and charmed by her outright playfulness. She engineered a come hither motion, crooking a finger in a manner that was deliberately seductive.

"Come and claim your kiss, Ms. Thornton."

Pam's smile was all kinds of sensuous, her azure glaze smoldering with low embers of arousal as she tempted Tara with the promise of a kiss.

And Tara all but floated to her, drawn like a moth to a flame by the desirous look in Pam's eye. She stopped when her lips were scant inches from Pam's, took a moment to look deep into eyes that were a thousand shades of fluctuating blue and gray then placed the softest of kisses on crimson lips.

"I love you."

Pam's eyes immediately filled with tears at the open, unapologetic and wholly fierce profession of love.

She pressed forward, kissing Tara firmly, pouring all of what she felt for the vampire into the kiss, hoping desperately that Tara would be able to glean even a fraction of the emotions she harbored for the vampire that had turned her world upside down.

Tara reached up, palmed Pam's cheek and returned the kiss with equal fervor, letting the blonde know that the feelings were not only acknowledged but reciprocated with vigor.

The pair kissed for long moments, the ruckus that was Christmas dinner fading away to nothing more than background noise as they created a symphony of their own, two pairs of full lips gliding, sliding and slipping over dampening flesh.

Tara was the one who broke the kiss, easing away from long, deep kisses in favor of soft brushes of her lips against Pam's kiss-swollen mouth. She ended the sensual assault by pecking a string of closed mouth kisses to the corners of Pam's mouth before pulling back.

"Come away with me," Tara husked, her Southern drawl rendered to nothing more than a hoarse rasp as she fought keep her passion in check. She held out an arm, waited until Pam curled long, supple fingers of snow around her elbow then languidly guided her mate out into the hallway.

xxxxxxxx

Pam rested her elbows against the railing of the balcony outside of Tara's private study, absentmindedly staring out into the caliginous courtyard that seemed to stretch for miles.

Behind her was a pair of French doors, wispy white curtains billowing into the dimly lit study, caught in the wind's embrace, resulting in them writhing about like phantom ghosts.

Pam sighed as Tara came up silently behind her, the vampire's indomitable energy thrumming into the air like a song, announcing her presence to Pam.

Dark fingers reached up, tenderly swept aside the thick spill of wavy corn silk hair, revealing the alabaster canvas that was the top of Pam's back and shoulders.

Dusky pink lips placed a kiss, just one, to a protruding shoulder blade, procuring from its owner, a visible shudder.

Then, Tara reached around Pam with both arms and dropped a pendant around her neck. She closed the clasp then took a step back as Pam pivoted, one hand already reaching up to cradle the necklace Tara had gifted her with.

It was nothing she had ever seen before. A blood red gem lay nestled in the middle of an intricate flourish of knots, swirls, its edges ensnarled by arcing lines, all curvulating on and around the other, sometimes intertwining and other times breaking away to coil in on itself.

It hung on a delicate white gold link chain, long enough for the pendant to rest just above the valley of her breasts.

Belatedly, Pam realized that the design was Tara's insignia.

"It's stunning, Tara."

It really was and though Pam felt the adjective inadequate to describe such a striking and truly unique piece of jewelry, she knew of no other word for it at the present moment.

"You truly are," Tara responded, voice soft, reverent. "That is my crest you now wear, as it recognized by the Authority and the members of my court," she explained softly as she gazed at Pam, dark eyes penetrating. She took a step forward and touched the small crimson medallion. "And that is a scarlet emerald. Rare. Unique. Not unlike you."

Pam flushed but when she attempted to look away Tara lightly touched her cheek, halting the process.

"I'm sure it comes as to no surprise to you that the color red is often a reference to life and vitality. And passion," the vampire added, voice quiet. "It's as close I will ever come to constructing a physical manifestation of all that I feel for you, all that you are to me."

Tara played midnight fingers down warm, soft skin, gazing deeply into winter blue eyes that were iridescent with unshed tears and glowing with a love unrivaled.

"I love you, Pamela." Dark eyes searched fathomless pools of sapphire, needing to see the truth and sincerity of her words sink into Pam, sink until it was all but embedded in the threads of her soul.

She smiled tenderly, softly, when Pam took in her profession of love and reflected it back onto her with a look so immersed with love and joy, it threatened to break her heart.

Pam smiled in turn, a beatific smile that was made all the more splendid by the twin tracks of wet tears that meandered lazily down either cheek.

"I love you too, Tara."

Tara smiled, kissed away her mate's tears then leaned down and brushed her lips tenderly against Pam's. "You're my greatest gift of all, Pamela. Never forget that."

At Pam's teary nod, Tara kissed her mate once more.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** - Broke out Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton's _Once Upon A Christmas_ album while writing this. The song, _The Greatest Gift Of All_ helped inspire this chapter. Plus, just how amazing is this duet couple that is Dolly and Kenny? Their voices are pure vocal chemistry, pure audial candy. Yum.


	21. A La Belle Étoile

**A/N –** The chapter from this title roughly translates to, _In the Open Air at Night_ or _Under the Beautiful Star._ It just sounds better in French so I kept it as such. Also, can I just mention how utterly fascinating all your reviews are? Judging from them, I can kind of sort readers into three groups. I've got readers who seem more frustrated than Pam and Tara themselves because these two have yet to fall in bed with each other to do the hanky panky. I've got readers who are just happy to float on the gentle waves of their slow but sweet courtship and I've got readers who just want Tara to turn Pam already because apparently the concept of a BabyVamp!Pam is cooler than sliced bread. Whichever group y'all see yourselves in, know that I'm grateful and appreciative that you're invested enough in the story to make your opinions and wishes known.

Here's the next chapter for y'all before I jet off. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 21 – A La Belle ****É****toile**

It was New Year's Eve.

Tara had pressed for an outing on the beach, citing a sudden, deep yearning to lay with Pam under a star pierced canvas of black velvet.

In truth, she simply longed for the seclusion and solitude that was comprised solely of her and her mate.

Of course, Pam had indulged her whimsy readily. The blonde found it hard to say 'no' to Tara, often too charmed and enchanted by the playful twinkle in those dark eyes and the deliberate pout that would form on tumid lips when Tara thought Pam might think to refute her request.

In truth, Pam was more than willing to spend the evening in the company of the vampire that had so completely stolen her heart.

She knew she would never get it back, her heart that is. It didn't belong to her anymore, wasn't hers to keep under lock and key, to nurture and treasure and keep safe.

That privilege rested in the capable hands of her mate.

The notion didn't petrify Pam as much as it did in the beginning.

Because in return, Tara had given her hers.

And what Tara had taken, she returned to Pam tenfold, bequeathing upon the blonde a love so deep and pure and true that it never once failed to stagger her.

Tara had been well within her rights when she had labeled their love olamic.

Pam never knew it was possible to love so unselfishly, so completely, to feel it deep in the marrow of her bones, warming the threads that made up her heart and soul.

And to have that love reciprocated in equal fashion?

It made tears sting the corners of her eyes.

"You are very pensive tonight, Princess."

Tara's voice, that low alto riding on a gentle Southern drawl unfurled around her like the most tender of caresses, a stroke of velvet against the smooth, soft surface of her skin.

Pam looked up, blue eyes vivid, mercurial from her ruminations, the steel-gray flecks churning within a whirlpool of azure, cerulean and cobalt.

"I'm sorry."

Tara shook her head, her expression soft, painfully tender as she stared down lovingly at the woman lying in her lap.

"Don't you ever apologize to me."

Dark fingers quested unhurriedly down the side of an ivory carved face, as it had since the pair had taken up temporary lodgings on a secluded area of the stretch of beach that yawned downwind from the outskirts of the city.

"You may sail along the waters of your contemplations for as long as you deem necessary," Tara breathed out softly as she traced the delicate arch of a pale eyebrow before allowing a lone finger to skate down the celestial slope of a pale nose. "I know you'll come back to me when you're ready."

Pam smiled at this and turned to press a kiss to a tunic covered stomach, feeling acutely the prominent abdominal muscles that stood stark and proud against silky ebony skin beneath her lips.

They quaked in response to the intimate touch, clenching and fluctuating before Pam's kiss soothed calm and contentment into that beautifully sculpted musculature.

"I love you," Pam whispered, voice tremulous under the weight of her emotions but her words were firm and unyielding as she proclaimed her devotion to Tara.

Tara lips curved, fingers skimming over a full bottom lip that instinctively puckered out in response, seeking further contact.

"I know."

The vampire traced the delicate line of Pam's jaw, walked a single night-kissed digit up to the lobe of an alabaster ear then curled a lock of corn silk hair around her finger.

She looked down at Pam, dark eyes unapologetic in the manner in which she stared, lovingly, dreamily into Prussian blue eyes that gazed up at her in turn, the windows to her mate's soul open and inviting.

Pam sighed as she observed Tara from her reclined position on Tara's lap.

Summer had since long come and gone and winter was in currently in full bloom, spreading her brumal influence over the city of rolling hills and undulating fogs.

And now, an hour shy away from the New Year, Tara still managed to look at her as she did all those months ago.

Like Pam had personally hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Hung them solely for Tara.

It was hard to miss the rapture in those fathomlessly dark eyes fashioned from obsidian and midnight, impossible to deny the fierce spark of love and affection that would flare to life whenever Tara looked at her.

Should she live for a hundred years, Pam knew she would never once tire of the way Tara regarded her.

With complete and utter devotion.

She smiled up at the vampire, a soft, besotted smile that flirted gently with her crimson lips. She lifted a hand and caressed a dark, cool cheek, colder now from the wind's insistent kisses.

"I love you," Pam whispered again as she played the pads of her fingers down the strong line of Tara's jaw, heart clenching when Tara's eyes fluttered shut and her head tilted, her body instinctively reacting to its mate's touch, leaning into those warm fingers that stroked love and warmth and peace onto ebony skin.

Tara indulged in the feel of Pam's warm, soft fingers against the side of her face, loving how they coaxed her into a quiescent state, infused her with a kind of peace and contentment that before Pam, she had never been privy to.

The way Pam touched her now, caressing her face as though she were some priceless artifact, precious and fragile as glass, was almost enough to distract her from the faint strand of melancholy that twined around that powerfully feminine scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

Almost.

Her mate wasn't sad, that much Tara knew for sure.

However, there was an air about Pam tonight that sluggishly stirred Tara's concern, her beast rousing slowly to protective consciousness as starbursts of the almost unreadable emotion flared intermittently to life as it had been throughout the course of the evening.

It had been dismissible at first. The evening had started off with easy playfulness and gentle teasing, Pam and Tara arriving onto the beach in time to see the stars' acronychal rising through the near transparent curtain of shredded fog.

Tara had made quick work of the expansive picnic blanket, weighing it down with a woven picnic basket and a portable gas lantern.

The second blanket, a knitted afghan of maroon and burnished gold had been for Pam, Tara ensuring that the blonde was well equipped with the necessary accessories to ward off the chilly bite of winter's breath.

The evening had taken off well.

Pam had taken to reclining fully out on the picnic blanket, her head resting on Tara's breeches clad lap, the lower half of her body swaddled beneath that afghan of maroon and gold. She had delighted Tara with a reading from one of her favorite novels, the vampire only interrupting her steady recitation by occasionally feeding her grapes and slivers of bread and cheese.

And when the impromptu reading had been exhausted, the pair simply took to conversing with each other, Tara regaling Pam with stories of ancient times, boasting in an exaggerated fashion every now and then if only to procure from her mate an arched brow and an incredulous smirk.

After that, when the last visible vestiges of blue blushes that kissed the steadily darkening sky had all but disappeared under a landscape of winking stars and unfurling fog, the pair descended into a comfortable silence, Pam staring contemplatively out into the fog-drenched bay, half-lulled into a torpid state by the manner in which Tara had taken to lovingly, absentmindedly stroking her face.

Tara herself had simply sat on the picnic blanket, more than content to allow Pam to use her as a makeshift resting couch. Obsidian eyes had easily pierced through the veil of darkness now blanketing the beach, the lone lantern's aurulent glow only going to far as to spill its light and warmth over the immediate vicinity that was their blanket.

She had watched the shifting sands and churning waves, forever fluctuating under Mother Nature's influential winds and the pull of the full moon that played peek-a-boo with bloated adumbral clouds that drifted listlessly across an ink-spilled sky.

Her fingers never stopped from where they journeyed repeatedly over the hiemal landscape that was Pam's aristocratic face. As they had been from the beginning of the evening, Tara allowed them the indulgence of an unhurried mapping of her mate's face, rememorizing features that were already a permanent impression in her mind.

The tactile contact, the way Tara would gently brush the pads of her cool fingers over the regal slope of a pale nose only to fall off to the side to thumb a prominent cheekbone, the manner in which she would stroke imaginary patterns over the smooth, warm expanse of an alabaster cheek only to then reach down to outline the sensual curvature that was Pam's lips, it was this tactile communication that soothed both human and vampire, an affirmation of love being given and received.

Tara's fingers continued now, running across the hairline of ondoyant hair that was as soft as silk and in the low glow of the lantern, came across like spun gold.

She sifted a few satiny strands between her thumb and forefinger, marveling at how flawless, how soft Pam's hair was, enthralled by the contrast of color when it coiled around her ebony finger.

Her eyes diligently followed the tracks of her fingers, near tangible caresses that were hopelessly sweet and tender as she gazed down at Pam who had her eyes at half mast, tumid crimson lips parted slightly to allow small puffs of silvery-white condensation to float from the warmth of her mouth and into the winter and brine tinged air.

Her mate was lost to her ruminations again, spirited away by thoughts that once again uncoiled those thin tendrils of melancholy that twined around Pam's scent of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

Tara's own scent, that wild, earthy and spicy bouquet of musk, cloves and sandalwood greeted Pam's aroma like a lover deprived from her beloved for longer than she could bear. It was an intimate mingle of smells, a perfect blend of scents that danced languidly around Pam and Tara, a heady, unique canopy of their own creation.

"Tara?"

"What is it, angel?"

"Tell me a story," Pam requested, voice soft, quiet.

Tara searched those pools of sapphire, her fingers now temporarily resting on the side of Pam's face, gentling stroking, her touch reassuring, calming.

She could see that nearly unreadable emotion swirling in those thousand shades of blue and gray, almost taste it on her tongue, a faint trace of flavor that was gone before she could think to put a name to it.

Still, despite the subdued nature that was Pam's current disposition, Tara wasn't too worried about her mate's broodings.

After all, was it not she who granted Pam permission to sail away on the oracular ocean of her musings?

She had.

She would give Pam anything.

As long as Pam came back to her at the end of night, Tara would allow her mate to drift as far away from the physical comfort of her presence and touch as she wished.

"Do you know of the true origins of Christmas and New Year's traditions?" Tara asked quietly as her fingers resumed its walk over regal features, tracing, learning, memorizing.

"Tell me."

"Contrary to popular belief, Christmas has long been celebrated before the birth of Christ," Tara began, voice taking on a distant inflection as she too began a journey into her memories. "Only then, in the time of ancient Rome, it was known as the Festival of Saturnalia. Ancient Romans believed that winter was the workings of the God of the Dead, hell-bent on ensuring famine and starvation amongst the masses by reducing daylight and causing crops to fail.

"Saturnalia was a festival that commemorated the Sun God, Saturn. He was also the God of agriculture and harvest. Back then, people believed that the sun lost its power due to the annual battle between the sun god and the god of the dead. To ensure the sun god's victory, human sacrifices were made, be it man, woman or child.

"It became law, this festival. Roughly between the dates of December seventeen to December twenty-fifth, a week-long celebration commenced. Courts were closed and people were immune from prosecution should they choose to damage property or inflict upon their neighbor, an injury. A sacrifice was chosen from he community to represent the 'Lord of Misrule.' It was considered a great honor, to be that human sacrifice that would ensure the sun god's victory and bring back the power of the sun at the beginning of the year.

"The chosen would be fed hearty foods. They would be graced with physical pleasures, get drunk on the finest wines, given access to indulgences befitting to only the rich and powerful. Then, when the time came, they would be brutally murdered, a bloody sacrificial offering to ensure that the sun god emerged victorious and that the sun would return to full power to grant the people a good harvest.

"People would then celebrate by singing in the streets, throw feasts laden with food and drink, engage in carnal acts until their bodies were sated and bedewed with the physical evidence of pleasure."

Tara allowed a wry chuckle to escape her dusky pink lips as she gazed down at Pam's slightly widened and appropriately appalled blue stare. She smoothed a thumb over a prominent cheekbone. "Of course, the traditions now are a far cry from the savagery and debauchery that stained those ancient times. When Christianity took a foothold over the empire of Rome, they adopted the festival of Saturnalia and renamed it 'Christmas', hoping to convert the pagan masses and induct them into the ways of the Christian church.

"However, despite the attempted conversion, it took centuries before the Christmas traditions we see nowadays to take shape and form." Tara touched the tip of her finger to the tip of Pam's nose, grinning softly, fondly, when Pam scrunched that feature in question in response. "Back then, people were freer with their inhibitions, society not yet dictating for reserve and demanding decorum. You would be scandalized had you been able to observe firsthand how people would often conduct themselves in public."

"I'm sure," Pam murmured, leaning into Tara's touch when the vampire pressed her palm against her pale cheek. "What about the tradition of a New Year's kiss? From where do those roots lie?"

Tara smiled at the question. Pam's thirst for knowledge was yet another aspect of the blonde's character that so appealed to the aimless wanderer in her. She had centuries of knowledge, almost two millennia of information stored within every nook and cranny of her vast and sprawling mind.

To be able to share even a fraction of all that she had procured over the centuries was not only a relief but a joy.

"Multiple theories abound regarding that subject," Tara confessed as she let her thumb find lodging on Pam's full lower lip, lightly stroking at the tumid flesh, relishing the warm puffs of air against her cool skin.

"Some say that a kiss with your beloved on the first stroke of midnight, the stroke that ushers in the New Year, will strengthen the bond of your relationship in the year to come.

"In Europe, there is the centuries old tradition of holding masquerade balls on New Year's Eve. The masks that people wear serves as a symbol of all the demons and evil spirits that have plagued the individual during the old year. And when midnight comes around, the mask is taken off and kiss is given in its stead.

"The kiss was an act of purification, a cleansing of the body and soul, to allow for a prosperous New Year unshackled by the burdens and strife of the previous year."

Tara bent and brushed her lips to Pam's forehead, drawing a contented sigh from her mate. "Either way, the tradition of a New Year's kiss is to begin the year with a slate clean and free, to purify yourself so that you may venture into the future without the weights of the past on your shoulders."

"New beginnings," Pam concluded softly, looking up at Tara.

The vampire nodded. "New beginnings." She bent once more, this time whispering a kiss to full crimson lips then pulled back to look into steadily into Pam's eyes. "Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?"

Pam's lips quirked purposefully and a pale eyebrow arched, two acts to present to Tara, an air of nonchalance.

"Why would you intimate that anything was wrong?"

She was stalling, biding for time where she could, her thoughts on a certain matter not quite corralled in an organized fashion for vocal presentation.

Tara chortled softly at Pam's attempt at deflection. She touched a finger gently to Pam's lips. "This precious mouth of yours may prevaricate with razor sharp precision and skill, Princess, but your eyes, your eyes never lie, Pamela," she murmured throatily as she followed the sensual arc of crimson lips with the tip of her finger. "Not to me."

She ducked her head then, kissed the lid of each eye in question, lips lingering before she drew back. "Something heavy has lay claim to your mind, Pamela. I can see the burden of it in your eyes." Tara caressed a wind-cooled cheek, her touch meant to soothe, to relax. "Have you yet managed to untangle its knots or are you still ensnared upon its thorns?"

Pam sat up slowly at this, the blanket encasing the lower part of her body slithering down to pool at her shoes.

Tara immediately leaned over, gathered the thick material in her hands then gently wrapped it around Pam's shoulders, tucking it securely around her mate's lithe frame to ward off the chill of the night.

Then, she simply tucked her legs beneath her and sat before Pam, her gaze expectant but not demanding. When a playful gust of wind danced through Pam's loose hair, tumbling stray locks over her face, Tara reached out and brushed it off her forehead before slipping the errant strands tenderly behind an alabaster ear.

Pam regarded Tara, silence singing a soft aria between them. Cerulean hued eyes outlined the immortal features of her vampire's face, took in the manner in which Tara's ink-soaked hair with enigmatic tints of ocean blue and green danced playfully in the wind's embrace, as though delighted to defy gravity for even a fraction of a second.

"I love you," Pam finally spoke, her husky inflection slicing through silence's song.

It was her third proclamation of love that night, her voice resolute, soft yet fierce at the same time.

Blue eyes were vivid with the intensity of her emotions, glowing like sapphires set aflame from a face that was flawless in its wintry perfection as they regarded Tara.

"I love you too."

It was a simple reply, an instinctual construction of words that was as natural as the stars in the night sky.

What made it complex was the manner in which it was delivered. Tara had soaked each syllable, drowned each letter with a love so profound, a love so true that the simple sentence seemed to take on a new meaning of its own. It was rich with the vampire's affections, infused with a fidelity that would have seemed improbable had Tara not have opened her mouth to allow those words to fall from her lips like wine.

"I've come to a decision regarding a matter I know is dear to you," Pam hedged, her naturally husky lilt betraying a strain of her nervousness.

She stared into atrous eyes, eyes the color of India ink, barely discernible flecks of chocolate brown drifting languorously in those inky pools.

Eyes that held nothing but love.

Love for her.

Only her.

Tara said nothing, did nothing. She did not move, did not remove her eyes from Pam's, her steady, calm gaze resting gently on orbs of azure.

"I'm not ready to leave the brothel just yet," Pam explained. Her voice was steady, her tone sure if soft, holding just a hint of wanting to be understood. "I won't simply abandon the girls in my care. I can't; they rely on me."

"I know."

Tara's reply was equally calm. There was no censure in her Southern drawl, no hope of expectation, no inkling of a demand, no judgment.

She simply gazed unapologetically into cerulean hued eyes, giving Pam her full attention despite the manner in which those mercurial shades of blue and gray enraptured her visual senses, drawing her into those wintry depths until she was but a willing victim to its siren call.

"But…" Pam let the sentence taper as she cottoned together her thoughts, formulated them into coherent mental sentences that would allow her throat to vibrate and her tongue to moisten as she engineered them into a vocal presentation.

"I won't be taking on clients anymore," she finally breathed out after a pregnant silence. Pam shuffled forwards and reached out to cup Tara's jaw, eyes smarting as she took in the dumbfounded and suddenly, desperately hopeful look on the vampire's face. "I can't, I _won't_ usher in the New Year knowing that I'll have continued to subject you to the knowledge of my having shared my body with strangers."

Pam pressed the tips of her fingers to Tara's cheek, as though the act would help cement the importance of her address into the vampire's mind.

"I can't greet the New Year with the knowledge that I'll have once again, put those burning embers of pain in your eyes. Don't deny it," Pam cut in swiftly when Tara opened her mouth to protest. She gently forced Tara's jaw upwards, closing the vampire's mouth.

"I know it hurts you, to have to come to me at the end of the night, only to smell another's scent on my skin." Pam's vision was swimming now, ballooning in and out of focus as she recalled the many nights in which Tara would arrive at her brothel, greet her cordially, lovingly but unable to hide that thin glimmer of hurt that would always cloud the dark of her eyes as she regarded Pam.

Pam knew Tara would never have said anything, never would have allowed her pain and jealousy to come between them but even for such old an immortal, such noble a creature such as Tara, some emotions proved too stark to hide.

It had taken a piece from Pam every time she caught that look in Tara's eyes, flayed a sliver of flesh from her beating heart every time that acherontic cloud would pass over Tara's eyes before the vampire could think to reign it in.

It hurt Pam deeply to know that she had been the cause of Tara's extended agony.

She had hated herself for it.

Hated that she was too weak, too frightened, too pathetic to relieve herself of a crutch that had gifted her with comfort and familiarity for almost longer than she could care to remember.

She hated that she couldn't bring herself to take that one step further that would ingrain herself more deeply and fully into Tara's life, hated that she was that much of a coward, that prideful that she had held onto something that if prolonged would inevitably open up a rift between her and the one individual that wanted nothing more than to simply give her the world.

But she wasn't scared anymore. She wasn't weak or frightened. Tara's love was a bolster, an augment of endless affection and warmth that gave her the strength of her convictions.

Convictions that now allowed her to begin closing this chapter of her life.

"No more clients," Pam informed Tara softly. "I won't put that anguished expression in your eyes anymore. I refuse."

Tara swallowed, the lump in her throat burning against her esophagus. Tears of a rich, dark crimson formed in her eyes, rimming them red as her ears continued to echo with the remnants of Pam's passionate address. She was helpless when they inevitably fell, twin tracks of scarlet that scattered down her cheeks like misplaced rubies.

Pam observed Tara's crimson tears, intrigued by them even as the sight of it caused her heart to twist in the most painful fashion behind her ribs. The hand still cupping Tara's jaw moved up, her thumb extending to brush away the ruby red stains.

"Say something."

Tara's silence was unnerving, the look in her eyes devastating. Her tears were the worst of all, crimson drops that sank like blades into the fabric of her soul, staining them red and spreading like a plague.

"Tara?"

The anxiety, the loud clang of trepidation that tolled against Pam's raspy tone roused the vampire back to the present moment.

Tara didn't attempt to wipe away her hematic tears. Instead, she wore them as badges of honor, manifestly grateful that her body still allowed for her emotions to take on physical shape and form by way of tears.

She reached out, gently touched the tips of her fingers to Pam's own damp cheek, her mate's tears clear as crystal and salty as the briny sea, but nonetheless enchanting.

"Thank you, Pamela."

No other words needed to be said.

On this night, minutes shy from a New Year, Pam had bequeathed upon her, a gift she had yearned for with every wretched fiber of her being.

It was a gift she meant to cherish for the rest of her nights.

The vampire reached for a pouch tied to her hip. Limber fingers undid the knot then slipped inside, fishing about for something before coming away with a small pocket watch. She clicked it open, smiled when she took note of the time.

"It's but a minute before the New Year, my beautiful angel," Tara whispered, her voice hushed.

She carelessly cleaned her face of the thin streaks of crimson with the sleeve of her thankfully dark blue tunic then lean in to kiss away Pam's lazily meandering tears, each brush of her full lips against Pam's warm, damp skin eliciting a small shiver.

_Ten._

"You are apodictically resplendent, Pamela," Tara husked as she thumbed away the last remnants of tears. She then cupped Pam's face in her hands, her touch unfailingly tender.

_Nine_.

"I'm going to love you until the end of my days," Tara vowed, voice breaking under the weight of her emotions. "Should I ever happen upon the true death, I promise, from the grave and beyond, I'll find a way to keep on loving you."

_Eight._

Pam felt her tears start anew. She let them fall, let the hot wash of her briny tears anoint her cheeks, cleansing her soul. She stared deep into eyes that were forever her undoing, eyes that spoke to her, Tara's undying love, her irrevocable need and want of Pam.

_Seven._

Tara thumbed Pam's tears away, her midnight kissed gaze never once leaving empyrean eyes that were coated with thin sheens of shimmering tears.

"You are so beautiful to me," she whispered, her tone reverent. "So enchanting." Her eyes stung with the threat of fresh tears. "I could look at you forever."

_Six._

"Tara…"

Pam's voice was reduced to a tear-choked husk, her accent shifting, sliding into a cadence that spoke of her roots, her origins. She leaned into the hands that held her face so tenderly, stared into a face that could only be worn by gods or angels.

"Tara…"

_Five._

Tara shivered at Pam's utterance of her name, feeling that whispered husk against every inch of her. It ignited every nerve ending, set her heart aflame and her soul to soar up to heavens.

She curled ebony fingers of her left hand, ran her knuckles down the plane of a shockingly smooth cheek then returned to cupping the side of Pam's face.

_Four._

Pam touched her fingers to Tara's cheek in turn, marveling at the cool softness she found. "How have I managed to live without you all these years?" she wondered, her strengthening British lilt awash in genuine bewilderment. Truly, it felt like before Tara came into her life, her past was but a blurry hallucination.

_Three._

Tara turned her head and kissed the fingers Pam alighted on the side of her face, paying homage to each pale digit with sweet, languid brushes of her lips.

"When I first set my eyes upon you, I knew then and there that I was lost." She nipped lightly at Pam's forefinger, grinned when Pam giggled. "I knew, down to the marrow of my bones that I had found the other half of my soul."

_Two._

"Three kisses, Pamela," Tara husked out, voice a low velvet rasp. "That's how long it took for me to fall irrevocably in love with you. All it took was three kisses."

Tara moved a hand down to cup Pam's jaw. She used it to lift the blonde's face up to hers, readying Pam for that New Year's kiss she would bequeath upon full crimson lips with nothing less than utter tenderness.

She looked deep into sapphire eyes that smoldered for her, eyes that unraveled her, steadied her, made her feel precious and loved.

"Pamela?"

Pam shivered. "Yes?"

"Can I keep you?"

A sob spilled from crimson lips at the heartfelt request.

"Don't you _ever_ let me go, Tara."

_One._

Tara smiled, an expression that was all at once devastating and sincere.

"Never," the vampire promised. "I'm never going to let you."

She leaned in then, sealed her solemn vow with a kiss to Pam's waiting lips that turned her blood molten and made her heart ache in the most delicious manner.

"Happy New Year, Pamela."

Pam sniffed and pressed her forehead against Tara's, drawing from her mate, an adoring sigh.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around Tara's neck.

"Happy New Year, Tara."

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Tara's accounts about the Festival of Saturnalia and the New Year's kiss traditions all have an element of truth to them. However, I might have embellished a few facts here and there purely for creative purposes. FYI.

Also, the 'three kisses' declaration was taken from the Spanish soap _Los Hombres De Paco_. I won't go into it because the wound is still too tender but that show had one of the best representations of a lesbian couple. Until…well, you know.


	22. Emeralds In Her Ocean Gaze

**A/N – **This chapter's for **athenades87**. Thank you for your unfailing support and words of encouragement. Thank you also to those who read and read and left a review. I'm still on vacation but the weather is being a messy, soppy nuisance so I'm stuck in indoors. Thought I'd punch out a quick chapter. I haven't edited it properly yet so there are probably going to be grammatical hiccups. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

* * *

**Chapter 22 – Emeralds In Her Ocean Gaze**

_She watched with emeralds in her ocean gaze as Tara accepted the affections from a beautiful stranger._

_Accepted and __**allowed**__ those affections to touch her beautiful, flawless ebony skin._

_She was beautiful, this stranger. She wore a face that spoke of Far Eastern tales and Oriental mystic. _

_Possessed a body that was unapologetically feminine._

_She watched, her heart twisting in a most painful manner behind the wrap of her ribs as the beautiful stranger reached up with an elegant hand to brush away a lone atrous lock of hair that tumbled over Tara's forehead._

_It was a flawless execution. The way those olive -hued fingers flexed and swiped and lingered over what was rightfully hers. _

_The simple gesture spoke of aristocracy. It spoke of one that came from wealthy stock._

_She watched, emeralds swimming in her increasingly tempestuous ocean gaze as Tara smiled in response, a soft, affectionate, fond smile. _

_The multiplying emeralds in her mercurial ocean gaze bobbed like verdant icebergs, sharp and cold and dangerous as Tara reached up with a midnight kissed hand, those limber fingers of night brushing a path down the beautiful stranger's cheek._

_There was deep history in that seemingly absentminded touch, a deep history between Tara and this beautiful stranger. They had a connection, one that was forged and fortified by time and years._

_They were bonded, tethered to one another by the maddening threads of familiarity._

_By intimacy._

_Hot tears needled the back of her eyes and her hands clenched into fists, manicured nails engraving crescent indentations into the vulnerable flesh of her palms._

_Her heart writhed and her stomach knotted. Nausea roiled through her veins, hot and potent as Tara and this beautiful stranger interacted._

_She watched, her eyes aflame with emeralds that threatened to consume the tumult whirlpool of cerulean, cobalt and azure as Tara cupped the beautiful stranger's cheek, a soft expression melting the immortal features of her face._

_Yes, there was deep history between her mate and this enigmatic creature of Asian feminine beauty. _

_A connection that sent violent surges of acidic jealously to run through her tense, lithe frame._

_However, before Pam could think to allow her tears to manifest or her feet to carry her away from the intimate scene that comprised of her mate and this beautiful stranger, Tara suddenly looked up and locked a set of penetrating dark eyes onto her._

xxxxxxxx

Ice clinked canorously against glass, a melodious jingle not uncommon in bars, lounges and brothels.

Tara was sequestered on a barstool, absentmindedly nursing two fingers of untouched whisky. Limber fingers of midnight were wrapped loosely, almost carelessly around the tumbler, her wrist moving in a steady, torpid rotation as she swirled the rich amber liquid in the glass, the lone ice cube jingling merrily against its sides.

The drink was nothing more than a distraction really, a prop she used to blend in with her human counterparts, a catalyst in which to keep restless fingers occupied until her mate was ready to retire for the evening.

It was late.

The brothel was quiet, the drawing room empty. What patrons were left was occupied in various rooms upstairs, no doubt coming to the end of their paid time with their girl of choice.

Pam herself was currently ensconced in the small study near the back of the brothel diligently going through the books that contained the recorded finances of her business.

The thought of Pam brought a soft smile to Tara's face.

It was a rare smile, a besotted expression only Pam could procure from the ageless vampire.

A soft _tsk_ tugged Tara out of the solitary confines of her pleasant musings. It floated through the alcohol and perfumed scented air, a low sound barbed with faint disapproval and dark eyes lifted in response, the dreamy, faraway gaze replaced with one of amused alertness.

Dusky pink lips quirked, a faint smile riding on the lush curvature of Tara's lips as Nicholas, Pam's resident bartender, passed by her, his bespectacled gaze vaguely censorious as he made a quick study of the vampire's untouched drink.

Nicholas hated to see good alcohol go to waste.

Tara struggled against the urge to allow her lips to curve into a mirthful grin as Nicholas mumbled under his breath, wiping down the bar as he went.

To human ears, the bartender's brief if miffed tirade would have come across as maunder but to Tara's highly sensitive ears, she was able to discern exactly what thoughts the disgruntled bartender was currently vocalizing.

And currently, Nicholas, much to Tara's growing entertainment, was muttering about yet another tumbler of fine whisky that he would have to regretfully spill down the sink.

Tara ducked her head and chortled at the bartender's displeasure of her conduct of her drink, the vocalization of her amusement thankful set at a decibel too low for Nicholas' ears.

The vampire set her whisky tumbler down on the slightly worn and chipped bar top. She brushed an absentminded hand down the front of her double breasted formal black waistcoat, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as she adjusted her position on the sink.

Footsteps suddenly sounded on the stairs, the click of feminine boots gently teasing the vampire's ears with its musical sensuality and distracting her from the irked Nicholas. It was followed by the faint but slowly strengthening scent of jasmine and dark bergamot unfurling in the air like a cat rousing from slumber.

The scent immediately gave Tara pause, ink dipped fingers suddenly abeyant over the hem of her waistcoat.

She knew that scent.

Knew that scent intimately.

"Tara?"

The vampire in question turned, executing a flawless pivot on the barstool she was currently ensconced on.

Dark eyes, more flawless than a midnight sky devoid of stars, locked onto the color of rich earth, Tara's low hums of energy sudden spiking to more potent levels as she rested a gaze on an all too familiar acquaintance.

"Naomi."

Naomi smiled in response, a sensual arc of lush pale pink lips that set off twin twinkles in the soft chocolate of her eyes. She glided over to Tara, her full skirts of cornflower blue rustling in a manner that was meant to entice, to seduce.

"Well, as I live and breathe," Naomi drawled as she sauntered to a stop in front of Tara who had already climbed to her feet, a soft smile of her own tugging at her full lips.

The Asian beauty grinned fondly when Tara sketched her a respectful bow then reached for her left hand to brush a perfunctory kiss onto olive painted knuckles.

"Happy New Year, Naomi," Tara said by way of greeting as she released her former lover's hand.

"Happy New Year, Tara."

Naomi leaned in then, sensuous lips seeking purchase on Tara's full ones and was summarily discombobulated when Tara pressed a hand to her shoulder, halting her process.

Naomi reared back immediately, a glimmer of hurt sparking off in the confused pool that was currently drowning the brown of her eyes.

"You've never once refuted the pleasure of my lips before," Naomi stated, sounding genuinely bewildered. "Aren't you going to allow me to greet you properly?"

Tara smiled gently at the woman's blatant befuddlement and took her hand in apology, her thumb absentmindedly running over the protrusion of Naomi's knuckles.

"I'm afraid such greetings between us have run its course, Naomi," Tara began, her tone appropriately apologetic but softly firm. "I'm spoken for."

Naomi's eyes widened and Tara couldn't help but chuckle at the dramatic fashion in which those lovely eyes of molten chocolate imitated that of a deer confronted with the barrel of a gun.

"Truly?"

Tara's lips arced as the notes of incredulousness that hung on that question registered with her ears. She nodded, her lips returning back into a soft smile that came across as almost shy and bashful as her mind once again returned to Pam.

"Truly," she confirmed freely, no trace of doubt or hesitation in her Southern drawl. "My heart is taken, my soul branded. I belong to another now."

Naomi's lips quirked at Tara's open declaration. She regarded her former lover for a long moment, a brief flash of regret flickering through the soulful brown of her eyes before she let loose a sigh that contained a wistful if resigned edge.

"You've broken my heart with your honest delivery, Tara," Naomi murmured though there was no censure in her voice. She took a small respectful step away from Tara. "I'm mortally wounded by the brutality of your forward address." She peered up at the vampire from beneath long, lush lashes, fluttering them coquettishly and drawing a soft, amuse laugh from Tara. "And as I ambled towards you not five minutes ago, I had hoped we could reacquaint ourselves intimately. I've missed you."

"And I would have to label myself a liar if I said that I did not miss you too," Tara replied. She leaned against the barstool, her body relaxed and languid. She sent a crooked grin to her former lover's way. "However, as I articulated before, I'm spoken for."

"Then, pray, why do I find you sequestered at the bar of a brothel?"

"My mate owns it."

Naomi arched a brow at this piece of information but thankfully refrained from voicing aloud a possibly snide or sardonic comment. Instead, she shook her head, sending loose curled locks of russet and copper to sway softly about her head.

"Bound and shackled at last, Tara," Naomi bemoaned theatrically. She shook her head and pouted, procuring from Tara an affectionate smile. "Words cannot express how brokenhearted I am not to ever have you in the warmth of my bed once more."

"Such audacity," Tara responded over a chortle, slipping easily into the playful banter that had always been present between them. "I see you've yet to tame that quicksilver tongue of yours."

"If memory serves, you much enjoyed my quicksilver tongue in the past," Naomi shot back cheekily. She lifted a delicate hand, Tara immediately grasping it in order to help her onto a barstool. "I distinctly recall that it made you moan in ways that still haunt my dreams."

"Hush," Tara admonished gently as she settled herself back onto the barstool she had recently vacated. "Such admissions should not be vocalized aloud in the public arena."

Naomi smirked. "Has this mate of yours outfitted you with the mannerisms of a prude, Tara? You never used to be so conservative."

Tara scowled. "Don't stir, Naomi."

Naomi shivered slightly as Tara's indomitable energy skated down her arms, a near tangible warning that she was beginning to tread on thin ice. She smiled in apology then indicated to the vampire's untouched drink.

"May I?"

Tara slid the tumbler of whisky over to her former lover, a sculpted dark brow arching as Naomi tossed back the strong drink in one expert swallow.

"Don't you give me that look," Naomi chided as she set the empty tumbler down. "I'm manifestly parched from my recent _exertions_," she divulged, whispering the last word conspiratorially before casting a sly gaze towards the ceiling.

Tara huffed out an amused laugh at her former lover's unapologetic manner in which she explained her presence in Pam's brothel.

"Shall I call for a refill?"

Naomi shook her head. "I need my wits if I'm to canvas this wretched city's fog laden streets."

Tara frowned at this. "Let me procure you a carriage. It's not safe for a lady of your stature to be wandering the streets at this hour."

Naomi waved off Tara's concern. "You needn't to burden yourself, Tara. Besides, my husband will harrow hell itself to bring justice to whomever thinks to harm me."

Tara sighed, a low exhale that came laced with frustration. She had forgotten how obstinate her former lover was, a trait she clearly shared with Pam.

Tara smiled at the thought and shook her head.

She had always had a proclivity towards strong willed women.

"Is it your husband's business that brings you to San Francisco?" Tara asked cordially as she settled herself more comfortably on the barstool.

"In a fashion," Naomi replied. She brushed stray locks of curled hair from her cheek. "It's our anniversary; Henry thought a trip fitting to celebrate our first successful year of marriage."

"And you choose to spend such auspicious an occasion in the arms of a stranger?"

Naomi clucked her tongue at Tara's reproachful tone. "Don't be so quick to pass judgment, Tara. We've an arrangement, my husband and I. If he can seek pleasures of the flesh outside of our marriage bed then so can I."

"How progressive of you both," Tara said, her tone droll. She then shook her head. "I apologize for my critic of the conduct of your marriage but I simply do not understand how you can fall into the arms of a stranger when you've already pledged yourself to another."

Naomi shrugged, a nonchalant lift of her shoulders. "We all comport ourselves differently. I'm not opposed to sharing."

"I am."

Naomi grinned. "I know you are. The way your eyes would be set aglow with jealously whenever one would dare to covet me with their eyes alone was rather amusing."

Tara scoffed at the accusation but did not deny it. "You always did love to rile me up."

Naomi chuckled at the affectionately exasperated expression on Tara's face. Then her own expression sobered slightly as she regarded her former lover. "Does she treat you well, Tara? Is your heart being handled with the care it deserves?"

Tara smiled, a soft, fond smile.

She nodded. "Rest assured, my heart and I are well cared for. I'm embalmed by her love every night and it never fails to sooth me with its soft caresses."

Naomi smiled at this and stood. She reached over, brushed an atrous lock of hair that had tumbled over Tara's forehead, eyes softening when Tara sighed softly.

"Congratulations, Tara," Naomi spoke quietly. She let her fingers linger on soft, cool skin before letting them fall away. "It is the most disconcerting feeling that I should be both hurt and happy by the fact that you finally have in your grasp what your heart has been seeking so persistently."

Tara stood. She reached out, played limber fingers of midnight caringly down Naomi's cheek, a soft smile drifting across her lips as her former lover leaned into her touch.

"I'll always think upon our time together with great fondness, Naomi," Tara whispered. She moved her hand down, splayed her fingers slightly and cupped the Asian beauty's face in the palm of her hand. She lifted Naomi's face so that rich brown eyes met her own whorls of India ink. "Please don't ever doubt that I did love you once."

"I don't," Naomi whispered back. She leaned into the cool hand, knowing instinctively that this was the last time Tara would bequeath such tactile communication with her. "You were always largely generous when it came to the affections of the heart, Tara. I hope your intended knows how lucky she is."

"I'm the lucky the one," Tara responded, her voice rich with love for Pam. She allowed the pads of her fingers to linger on warm skin before she dropped her hand from Naomi's cheek, was about to continue her spiel when her mate's powerfully feminine scent of honeysuckle, lavender and vanilla registered with her.

Tara immediately looked up and past Naomi's shoulder, easily finding and locking an ink soaked gaze onto a violently turbulent pair of blue eyes that reflected a dangerous, azure storm.

Her beast whined in displeasure at the pained look on Pam's face, her booted feet already pivoting towards the direction of the threshold that separated the parlor from the drawing room.

Power hummed through the air, palpable wash of energy as Tara took in the stiff manner of Pam's carriage, the fashion in which her fingers curled themselves into clenched fists, her mouth set into a thin, grim line.

But it was the devastatingly broken look in Pam's eyes that made the bottom of her stomach drop out.

"Excuse me a moment, Naomi," Tara murmured before she sidestepped her former lover and engineered a series of generous but not hasty steps towards her mate, her dark eyes never once leaving Pam's raging whirlpool of steel-gray and winter-blue.

"Pamela."

Tara's voice was careful, her Southern drawl riding on the waves of her love for her mate as she addressed Pam. The vampire bowed deep at the waist then reached for Pam's hand. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to pale knuckles, well aware that Naomi had taken to watching her interactions with her mate.

Pam said nothing, did nothing when Tara released her hand. Her gaze flitted between the vampire and the beautiful stranger sequestered by the bar, screams of undeniable jealousy clouding her good judgment and threatening to let loose from her lips, a series of violent expletives that would surely turn the air blue.

Tara's cool lips ghosting over her own momentarily served as an anchor in a storm that was her tempestuous emotions.

She swiveled a decidedly unreadable look at Tara who was watching Pam with a cautious regard.

"Well?" Pam finally spoke, her eerily level tone setting off many an alarm in the back of Tara's mind. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Tara bit her lip at the request, knowing Pam well enough by now to know that the blonde was currently a powder keg itching for an open flame.

However, not wanting to seem rude or refute her mate's request, she reached down and laced night-dipped fingers with long snow-white ones, trying valiantly to ignore the manner in which Pam tensed at her touch.

The pair was silent as Tara guided Pam towards the bar, well aware that Naomi's rich brown gaze were fused onto them, a searing presence that only added to Pam's volatile anger and Tara's growing trepidation at having to introduce two individuals that were dear to her.

As they reached Naomi, Tara was manifestly thankful that her former lover curbed her quicksilver tongue, waiting instead for Tara to conduct this increasingly awkward and painfully tense introduction.

"Ms. Hayward, may I present to you, Ms. Swynford de Beaufort. My mate," Tara added, hoping to smother some of the heat from Pam's smoldering temper with that additional confirmation.

Naomi curtsied, affording Pam the courtesies befitting those of the upper class. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Swynford de Beaufort."

Pam didn't return the curtsy. "Just Ms. Beaufort would suffice, Ms. Hayward."

Tara bit back a wince at Pam's overly polite tone, more so at the smile that the blonde had taken to plastering onto those full crimson lips.

It was the practiced smile Pam would bestow upon her customers, one that was polished and brittle, easily made, easily broken.

It was a smile that was far removed from the genuine and warm smiles Pam would bestow upon Tara.

"Ms. Beaufort, then," Naomi amended, her own pleasant tone cooling in wake of Pam's open hostility. She looked straight into Pam's mercurial gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "And how did you become acquainted with Tara?"

"We collided fortuitously last summer," Pam drawled disinterestedly, her American cadence firmly in place. She sent Naomi's way, another well-honed smile that was altogether insincere then pinned her with a look that was suddenly flat as the edges of a blade and just as sharp. "And what of you, Ms. Hayward? Pray, how did you and Ms. Thornton meet? Better yet, how would you describe your relationship with her?"

"Pamela…"

Tara's tone was mildly rebuking.

"We were lovers once," Naomi interrupted Tara, her own gaze narrowing, Pam's antagonistic demeanor setting off a temper of her own. "Do you always conduct yourself in such hostile a fashion towards Tara's associates?"

"Don't you _dare_ judge me!" Pam spat out. She shook off the placating hand Tara had taken to wrapping around her arm. "You have no right!"

"And you've no right to call my association with Tara into question, Ms. Beaufort," Naomi retorted. She turned to face Tara, dismissing Pam and ending their brief conversation. She offered the vampire a tight, if slightly regretful smile. "I can see that I've stirred the calm waters of your evening, Tara. I think it best if I take my leave."

"Let me procure you a carriage," Tara tried again even as she moved to stand slightly between her unapologetically fuming mate and her former lover. While she knew such an offer would only kindle the flames of Pam's rage, the antiquated part of her outright refused to allow Naomi to traverse the dark and fog smothered streets of San Francisco alone at night.

Naomi shook her head as she edged around a now silent Pam who still glared at her with frigid winter in her eyes. When Tara took a step towards her, she held up a hand, halting the vampire's ambulation.

"Redirect your efforts into placating your mate, Tara," Naomi whispered, low enough so that only Tara could hear. "Let her know that I'm no threat to her happiness." She smiled softly. "Perhaps, when the fires of her ire have quelled we may meet again in better terms."

Turning to Pam, she inclined her head. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Beaufort."

Pam said nothing, her face stony, the expression in her eyes decidedly frosty as she regarded Tara's former lover.

Tara watched as Naomi flitted out of the parlor and into the entrance hall, greeting James with a pleasant smile as he emerged from the cloak room with her hat, jacket and gloves. Dark eyes were somewhat helpless and more than a little concerned as Naomi donned her outer garments, tipped the doorman then disappeared out of the brothel doors.

The vampire was so occupied in ensuring Naomi's safe journey from the brothel to her designated destination that when she finally turned around to confront the next obstacle that had been set in place for her this seemingly ordinary night, Tara found that Pam had already begun walking away from her.

"Pamela."

Tara sped up to Pam, catching the blonde mid-step between the parlor and the drawing room. She grasped her mate's elbow only to have Pam shake off her hold.

"Pamela," she tried again, reaching for Pam's hand this time and blowing out a frustrated exhale of cool air when the blonde moved it out of reach.

"I'm busy, Tara," Pam stated briskly as she moved past the stairs towards the study, Tara following in her wake, concern and mild exasperation painting stark lines on the immortal features of her face. "I've matters to attend to so I'll thank you kindly to take your leave."

Tara opened her mouth but before she could think to allow a word to fall past her tumid lips, Pam had opened the door to the brothel's small study, ducked hastily inside and slammed the door in Tara's face.

**TBC**


	23. Battles Won and Battles Lost

**A/N** – This is despicably late. I know. I'm sorry. It's been hard trying to wrangle my muse into some semblance of compliance. I'm also pretty busy with work. I can't promise super frequent updates but I'm going to try to finish the story. Thanks for all the great reviews and your support. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 23 – Battles Won and Battles Lost**

The door closed with a soft but audible snick.

The sound of a lock sliding into place followed, the hiss of a key sliding out rounding off the series of sounds that informed Pam that her establishment was locked and secure.

Now, barred from the last vestiges of warmth that still breathed through the brothel, Pam couldn't stop the shiver that wracked her lithe frame as the cold night air snuck past her sartorial barriers to nip at her pale skin.

Dropping her key into her drawstring black satin and lace reticule with black bead fringes, she closed the purse, settled it around her wrist then turned and made her way down the brothel steps.

Fog greeted her, elongated ghostly white wisps that unfurled and writhed against a winter breeze that whispered almost silently through the night-fell city of San Francisco.

It was ironic how the fog of San Francisco was so reminiscent of the peasoupers she would so often encounter in London.

But where London's smog was an amalgamation of pollution and fumes, San Francisco's was birthed from the cradles of the ocean, tingeing the fog with brine and ice.

Another shiver tripped down her frame as the fog's damp, cold fingers pressed winter chill into the marrow of her bones, resulting in a progression of goosebumps to erupt and adorn the skin on her arms.

Pam huddled deeper into her unbuttoned frock coat, wanting nothing more than to return home and find purchase in front of a cheery, roaring fire.

"You should button up your coat."

Pam jumped, body jerking in an almost violent fashion as a low voice sounded out from the darkness. She whirled around, the woolen materials of her full skirt pivoting around her like a carousel, fingers of fog revolving around her like lazy, languid snakes and her coat whipping about her like a cape.

"Tara?"

Azure blue eyes squinted in the voice's general direction, trying in vain to pierce the veil of darkness that had befallen upon the city.

She saw nothing but an inky blackness.

Pam flinched as the sound of a striking match shot through the otherwise silent sidewalk. There was a brief flare of auric light, enough for her to make out the outline of an immortal face before darkness once again consumed Tara as the vampire extinguished the match.

A small circular amber glow from a lit cigarette soon made an eerie appearance, alerting Pam to Tara's location in the dark nook behind the brothel steps.

Curls of smoke billowed out from the dark in a thin stream, barely discernible against the curtain of fog that seemed to thicken by the minute.

If Tara was attempting to perturb her, she was doing wonders.

The dark was a debilitating factor on one's senses, eradicating any and all visual cues that might alert one to danger or trouble. It also had a nasty habit of amplifying sounds to an uncomfortable degree and right now, the silence that flitted back and forth between Pam and Tara was proving mighty unpleasant.

Pam stared into the dark, using the intermittent flare of the end of the cigarette as a compass to Tara's general whereabouts.

Even after many months together, Pam was still disconcerted by the manner in which Tara blended so easily into the night. It was a stark reminder of just how far apart their worlds really were, how different they really were.

Here, now, in the cloak of darkness, this was Tara's domain, the moon and the stars her loyal subjects, the shadows her suit of armor.

Tara contributed to the night's deadly and sharp edges and at the present moment, Pam was never more aware of the fact that standing before her, hidden, was a predator.

But being provoked unleashed a beast of her own and Pam could feel her inner English girl rousing to life from the bubbling indignation that was crooning a sweet, poisonous tune through her veins.

"I told you to take your leave," she spoke sharply into the dark, voice brusque and her tone censorious.

"I did," came the blithe reply, Tara's homely Southern drawl, low and deliberate. "I'm standing _outside_ of your establishment, am I not?"

The lit end of the cigarette crackled as Tara took a drag, exhaling the tobacco tinged smoke in a series of expertly crafted smoke rings.

Pam huffed, irritation sending a scowl to chase a severe line across her lips as Tara's blasé reply rang through her ears.

"I'm in no mood for your theatrics, Tara. Go home."

"I am home."

A sound of a boot stamping against cobblestone, Tara snuffing her unfinished cigarette beneath her feet. Shadows sluiced off the vampire's sinewy frame like water as she emerged from the darkness, revealing the perfectly coordinated attire of an affluent gentleman.

An unbuttoned knee-length black woolen frock coat of her own sheltered a pristine white winged collared formal shirt under a formal black waistcoat and slim, black trousers. A burgundy silk puff tie adorned her neck, polished black spat boots adorning her feet. A silk black top hat sat atop her head, completing her attire.

Tara came to a stop in front of Pam, face unreadable. "Though she is proving rather unwelcoming at the present moment," she finished, her Southern drawl even, calm.

Dark clouds of guilt immediately rolled across the azure storm of Pam's eyes at the vampire's admission and she slid them immediately sideways to contemplate the cracks in the cobblestoned sidewalk, unable to look at Tara.

A tug on her coat made her turn her head and she looked back in time to see Tara pulling her coat closer around her, working one button at a time through the button holes.

Slow. Confident.

As though she were baiting Pam to retaliate.

Her inner English girl snarled at the hypocrisy of the act.

"I can button up my own coat, thank you very much," Pam snapped, taking a step away from Tara and disturbing the shredded layers of fog that had taken to pivoting around them.

"Suit yourself."

Tara backtracked until she was parallel to the wall. Resting a shoulder against it, she stuck a hand into her coat pocket and observed her mate through dark eyes.

The very picture of nonchalance.

The sight made Pam's blood boil.

"Are you ready to retire?"

Pam shot Tara an incredulous stare, almost aghast at the vampire's audacity. Then, blue eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a sneer.

"I can escort myself home."

At the dismissive words, Tara pushed off the wall, power suddenly screaming into the air, turning it tangibly wild and savage.

Despite every instinct compelling her to tuck tail and run Pam stood her ground, suppressing a flinch as the vampire's indomitable energy burned lightly across her frame.

"We will walk," Tara began, her voice soft, low, dangerous. "Or I will escort you home over my shoulder, Pamela." Dark eyes were penetrating, unwavering as they bored into hostile eyes of sapphire. "Don't cast me as the villain in this tale of misery you've orchestrated from your uncharitable behavior earlier this evening."

Pam bristled at Tara's response, offended at being so openly labeled as nothing more than a woman subjected to a case of hysteria. She stiffened as Tara approached, visibly tensing as the vampire resumed buttoning the rest of her frock coat but didn't bat away the agile fingers of midnight that skimmed over her coat buttons.

She remained obstinately silent, eyes burning like blue ice into Tara's face.

The vampire ignored the blistering glare.

"Shall we?" Tara inquired, her voice returning to an affable cadence when she had finished the last button. She held out an arm, eyes flickering up to find temporary residence on tempestuous whorls of steel gray and winter blue, daring Pam to reject her.

Pam cinched her jaw in turn, a muscle dancing erratically beneath smooth ivory skin on the side of her face. She eyed Tara's abeyant arm, glaring at it as though it had personally offended her delicate sensibilities.

However, after long moments of furious contemplation in which several choice words were strung alongside Tara's name, self-preservation eventually persevered over her stubbornness and pride.

Eyes still flinty and expression visibly frosty, she shuffled slowly towards Tara, great reluctance in every step and almost gingerly curled her fingers around the vampire's elbow, acting as though she were somehow afraid that touching Tara would bring about the wrath of the gods upon her head.

Tara said nothing of this new development, her face eerily serene, not a single emotion rippling across the still pond that was the immortal features of her face. She simply took a step forward, then another, her momentum prompting Pam to follow her in her wake.

xxxxxxxx

Silence.

Pam had never heard it howl so loud.

It made her ears ring, her skin itch and her scalp to prickle.

The click of her black steeple boots against uneven cobblestones were her only other audial companion, Tara unnervingly silent besides her.

The vampire offered Pam no audial cues. There were no inhalations of breath, no whisper of a sigh that would come shackled with an exhale of breath. There was no rustle of clothing and Tara's boots were disturbingly silent against the ground, making neither a thud nor a thump.

It was as though she were walking alongside a ghost and had she not sent intermittent glances sideways to sneak peeks at Tara, she might have thought the beautifully muscled arm beneath the tips of her fingers to be a figment of her imagination.

But Tara was besides her.

Silent as the dead.

Pam swallowed and blinked, briny tears smarting the edges of her eyes.

The silence between them had never been so incapacitating.

Neither was the distance. She was practically huddled up against Tara's side, an instinctual habit that she had long ago formed whenever in close proximity to the vampire. Even, now, with a yet unresolved argument brewing between them, her body still gravitated towards Tara despite several attempts to keep a notable distance between their bodies.

However, despite the arm she tucked around Tara's elbow and the manner in which their sides brushed up against each other, Pam had never felt further away from Tara.

It was a silence and a distance of her own doing.

So why couldn't she find it in herself to speak aloud the two words that would reverse the upset she had caused between them?

I'm sorry.

Two words. Simple words. Easy words.

And yet, though they burned at the back of the throat, twin coals that smoldered against the vulnerable flesh of her vocal chords, her tongue proved stubborn and unyielding, her lips remaining sealed.

She swallowed, tightened her grip around Tara's elbow and blinked.

Tara felt the minute pressure around her arm, cast a sidelong glance that was too fleeting for Pam to catch then returned to contemplating the fog that danced before them.

This was Pam's battle to fight.

She turned the corner, guiding Pam past a flickering lamppost that spilled weak auric light onto the sidewalk, the fog obscuring most of its glow.

A steep hill loomed before them.

Beyond it was Pam's neighborhood of Victorian styled semi-detached houses, differentiated only by paint and the knobs on the owner's doors.

She spoke not a word but slowed her amble as they began ascending to accommodate the restriction Pam's skirts imposed onto her legs.

Silence fell upon them like weights.

A tear slipped unbidden from watery blue eyes and Pam turned her head, using the cover of shadows and fog to hide the evidence of her shame.

She had never been gladder for San Francisco's chilly weather when she felt that lone, damp salty streak dry up almost as quickly as it appeared.

She reached up, hid the act of swiping away the residual wetness from her cheek behind her fingers brushing away a stray lock of hair that fell over her forehead.

She tensed when she felt Tara's eyes on her, dark and penetrating, boring intently into the side of her head.

She couldn't find it in herself to look at Tara's way, lest the vampire see the humiliation in her eyes.

"It's rude to stare," was what she said instead, voice sharp and disapproving. Anything to distract her from the increasing bout of guilt that put a sour taste on her tongue and a sick feeling in her stomach.

"My apologies."

Pam bit down on her tongue to curb an impulsive retort at Tara's easy apology. She fumed silently for mere seconds, pendulating between anger, shame and guilt before quickening her pace, forcing Tara to match her steps.

"In a hurry to get home?" Tara inquired softly as she fell easily into step with Pam's now hasty gait.

"It's cold," Pam countered in a clipped tone. Her eyes itched to dart sideways, to divine some inkling of information as to Tara's current disposition from the expression on her face but she resisted, choosing instead to glare at the fingers of fog before her.

Tara hummed her agreement though her own cool body had no qualms with Mother Nature's arctic breaths. "Would you like my coat?" she offered in a courteous tone.

"No," Pam snapped.

"Suit yourself."

Pam's shoulders formed a rigid line at Tara's blithe response. Her tongue burned with the yearning to spit out a verbal retaliation but knowing that an acerbic remark would only worsen the situation between them, Pam clenched her teeth and swallowed the biting comment.

Tara rolled an obsidian gaze over to Pam's stiff profile, feeling acutely just how tense her mate was as she walked by her side.

However, she decided not to comment, choosing instead to let the silence between them marinate.

This was Pam's battle to fight.

xxxxxxxx

By the time they reached Pam's humble abode, Pam was stiff with cold.

Or at least, that was what she led herself to believe.

However, the tension leeching from her muscles, the ache that had settled into her bones, wasn't a result of the cold.

And she knew it.

"Here we are."

Tara's gentle Southern tone, normally so soothing, comforting, only served to grate on her nerves. She tugged her hand out from around Tara's elbow and whirled around to face the vampire.

"Stop pretending that nothing's wrong."

"I'm not."

Pam glared at Tara, eyes chilly with acrimony. "Then desist with the chivalry, Tara. It's nauseating."

Tara chuckled, the sound carrying not a shred of amusement. "Alright. I've seen you safely to your doorstep so I'll now bid you a goodnight."

She bowed, her movements jerkier than normal but when she moved to take Pam's hand to bestow upon it a perfunctory kiss, Pam snatched it out reach.

"I told you to desist with this pretentious farce," Pam barked out, face livid.

"You should lower your voice, Princess," Tara commented, seemingly unaffected by her mate's burst of temper. "It'll be quite unbecoming of you to arouse the neighbors and expose them to your startling display of histrionics."

"How dare you?!" Pam spat out, fury and indignation overriding her common sense. "I wasn't the one carousing with a former lover." Blue eyes were incensed as they leveled a heated gaze at Tara. "You humiliated me in front of my subordinates."

"Don't." Tara's voice was low, riding on the edges of a growl. She remained where she stood but the sudden anger that flared in the night of her eyes was almost palpable, snapping onto Pam's face like a blow.

"Don't corrupt my air with false accusations, Pamela. I did no such thing." She glared at Pam, gaze unflinching, wild, indomitable energy snapping into the air like a chill. "If memory serves, it was you who turned what could have been a cordial introduction into an unfavorable spectacle."

"She was your lover," Pam countered angrily, aware that she was grasping at straws, unable to sustain a concrete case that would tip in her favor.

But anger always had a way of clouding one's judgment.

"She was," Tara responded, her tone unconcerned. "And a member of my court. Your conduct towards her was embarrassing."

Pam's face flushed at the allegation and she gritted her teeth, fingers curving into fists on either side of her body. "Don't speak to me as if I were a child, Tara. I won't stand for it."

"Then stop acting like one," Tara snapped back, the patience she had so carefully nursed and monitored slipping like water through her fingers. "She _was_ my lover. _Was_, Pamela. Have I ever given you cause to doubt me?"

To that Pam could not formulate a response.

She blinked, eyes brimming with tears that were made manifest but shame, anger, guilt or a combination of the three she didn't know. But what she did know was that right now, with tears in her eyes, standing before Tara who was looking at her as though she were stranger, she never felt more exposed and vulnerable.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Pam said quietly, shoulders slumping with her defeat. She ducked her head and avoiding Tara's gaze pushed open the gate that would grant her access to the steps to her door.

Tara didn't follow her. She simply allowed her eyes to track Pam's amble up the steps, to find temporary residence on the stiff canvas that was Pam's coat covered back.

"Do you trust me, Pamela?"

The question was softly uttered, constructed with no demand or expectation.

It was akin to a dagger in Pam's heart.

She swallowed a sob, hand shaking as she reached for her house keys in her reticule. She didn't respond, fingers trembling as she drew open the purse and retrieved her keys.

"What about love? Do you love me, Pamela?"

The second question breathed out of Tara's mouth in a susurrant whisper and the break she heard in Tara's otherwise composed voice shattered her resolve.

"You know I do."

Pam turned as she made her address, needing Tara to see the truth of her words in her eyes.

Eyes that were glistening with tears she was desperately trying to keep at bay.

Tara nodded, offered Pam a ghost of smile. She took a small step forward.

"No."

Tara froze, one boot hovering over the sidewalk. Questioning eyes of India ink searched Pam's mercurial cobalt gaze, seeking an answer to her mate's refusal of letting her come closer.

The glint of pain Tara tried but failed to hide in the obsidian swirls of her eyes all but broke Pam's heart.

But she knew that should she allow Tara inside tonight, when she still felt so open and raw, things between them would only escalate.

"I...I wish to be alone tonight," Pam said, voice nary above a whisper, her accent muddling, vacillating between British and American.

When Tara bit her bottom her lip and blinked, Pam cut her eyes away, unable to maintain the contact of their eyes.

Tara for her part merely observed Pam from her vantage point on the sidewalk.

She was torn, her heart and her head urging her in two separate directions that threatened to unravel her at the seams.

In the end, logic won over the impulsion bleeding from heart.

Much as she wanted to climb up those steps and take Pam into her arms, she reminded herself that this was a battle she couldn't fight for Pam.

Because it was not her battle to fight.

Therefore, she would respect her mate's wishes to be left alone, to lick her wounds in the solitary confines of her home.

"Alright," Tara conceded. She glanced up at Pam, offering neither a smile nor a frown. "I'll leave you to your ruminations and solitude then." She waited until Pam settled a troubled and saddened gaze onto her own calm dark stare.

She smiled softly then. "I bid thee a goodnight, Pamela."

Tara sketched a bow from where she stood, plucking her top hat off of her head in the process. Then, she straightened, slipped her hat back on and allowed herself the luxury of settling a midnight kissed gaze onto moist orbs of cerulean blue.

For a long moment, Tara stared up at Pam and Pam down at Tara.

Neither spoke and neither moved.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Tara finally asked, her tone hesitant, meek almost.

Pam swallowed at the hesitancy in the vampire's tone, more so at the look in Tara's eyes, the expression on her face.

Questioning. Doubting. Uncertain.

She had put those emotions on Tara's face. Stained those beautiful, immortal features with the evidence of her insecurities.

She swallowed.

"Tomorrow," she agreed through a ragged whisper, throat clogging up with the threat of fresh tears.

Tara's heart clenched when Pam looked away from her once more.

She stared at her mate, soaking into memory the ethereal, wintry beauty that was Pam. Dark eyes beseeched orbs of sapphire to return to looking at her but Pam didn't, couldn't.

So Tara embarked on a lonesome gaze of her own instead.

She stood what seemed like hours on the sidewalk, standing still even after Pam found the will to unlock her door and slip inside, closing the pale pink door behind her with a quiet snick.

She stared at it.

The object that barred her from her mate.

Then, when a bank of fog moved into the space between Tara and Pam's house, she turned and walked off into the night.

**TBC**


	24. Lay Down Your Weary Tune

**A/N – **I was reading Poe and it jogged my muse awake. Don't ask me how reading _The Pit and the Pendulum_ inspired this chapter; it'll give us both a headache. Title is taken from Mary Black's _Lay Down Your Weary Tune_. Thank you for your reviews on the previous chapter. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 24 – Lay Down Your Weary Tune**

"Ms. Beaufort?"

"Good evening, ma'am."

Pam smiled demurely at Tara's housekeeper, feeling her cheeks flame slightly as she caught the appropriately confused look on Mrs. Brice face.

"Mrs. Brice," the housekeeper corrected gently. "Is Ms. Thornton expecting you?"

"No," Pam murmured, lowering her head. She gnawed uneasily on her bottom lip, blinked away a sudden onslaught of tears that rose as her encounter with Tara from the night before flickered to the forefront of her mind. "No, she isn't I'm afraid."

"Come inside, sweetheart," Mrs. Brice urged. She pulled the door open wider, a genuine invitation for Pam to step inside out of the elements.

"I beg your forgiveness for accosting you thus, ma'am," Pam spoke softly as she wandered into the expansive hallway then came to a stop in front of the hallway table. "I know I should have sent word of my coming to call."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Brice scoffed as she closed the door with soft thud. "You know you're welcome here anytime."

The housekeeper shuffled forward and began peeling Pam of her coat, hat and scarf, clucking her tongue in affectionate exasperation as Pam immediately protested and made a halfhearted attempt to evade her helping hands.

"Be still, child," Mrs. Brice chided as she unwound Pam's knitted forest green woolen scarf from around her neck. "You're more fidgety than a skittish horse."

"I apologize," Pam murmured immediately, feeling like a chastened youngster. She obeyed the housekeeper's instruction and watched as Mrs. Brice hung up her scarf next to her hat and coat, leaving her in an indigo blue floor-length bustled skirt with tone-on-tone embroidery and a cream long-sleeved blouse under a smoky blue brocade ladies vest with fabric covered buttons.

"I'm afraid Ms. Thornton has not yet emerged from her chambers," Mrs. Brice announced. "It's still an hour 'til the dimming of the day."

"Yes, of course," Pam replied softly. She glanced down at the pointed tips of her black steeple boots, unsure of how to proceed now that she had followed through with her impromptu decision to pay Tara a visit.

"Are you alright, Ms. Beaufort?"

Pam's response to that was a raise of her head that exposed a painfully bittersweet smile.

"If I responded with a 'yes', would you be inclined to believe me?" she asked quietly.

Mrs. Brice shook her head. "No." She smiled gently at Pam. "But I'd be more than happy to turn my head if that was what you desired."

Pam smiled at this but it was a pathetic attempt at best and she blinked rapidly to stave of the seemingly inevitable sting of tears.

"I…"

She had spent the better part of her day agonizing over last night, her temples almost throbbing from replaying the events that had unfolded on her front steps over and over, her stomach in knots as image after fractured image of the hurt look in Tara's eyes seared itself behind her lids.

A second opinion was what she desperately needed right now but even as her mouth hung open, the words refused to emerge from the bowels of her throat.

"Did you and Ms. Thornton have a falling out?"

Blunt and to the point, Mrs. Brice proved ever insightful.

Pam sighed and looked away, embarrassed at being so easily readable. "We...got into a row," she admitted.

"I gathered that from the expression on Ms. Thornton's face when she came home last night."

The housekeeper took a step towards Pam and placed a consoling hand on Pam's arm, prompting the blonde to look into piercing caesious hued eyes.

"Couples fight, it's an inevitability. But it is not always an indication that things between you have turned sour, Ms. Beaufort." She offered Pam another smile. "How about a spot of tea while you wait?"

Pam's expression softened at the kind tone, lips curving upwards at the openly non-judgmental look on the housekeeper's face.

"If it's not too much trouble," she replied quietly.

"It isn't." Waiting until Pam had lifted her head, revealing troubled, cloudy eyes of blue, Mrs. Brice smiled and gestured towards the grand staircase. "Why don't we adjourn to the library? You can take your tea there."

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The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Tara wandered into the library, hair mussed and tousled around her head, fathomless eyes of night still somnolent with sleep.

The vampire was attired in a pair of simple black cotton breeches and a loose long-sleeved moss green sleep tunic that whispered over muscular thighs. Her feet were bare, making not a sound as she ambled towards Pam, sipping quietly from a warm pewter tankard.

Her mate was sequestered in front of a bookshelf near the cheerfully swaying fire, long fingers of ivory skimming over the spines of many a book. The act was absentminded, the touch of each fingertip to a worn or new spine reverent, wistful.

Tara smiled softly at the sight, instantly enchanted by the manner in which Pam stroked her fingers down each book's spine. Here was a woman who loved to read, who was unafraid of exploring her passions and enlarging upon the discoveries she would inevitably make between the pages of a book.

Tara took another sip of warm crimson liquid as intriguingly dark eyes moved to a new quarry: the canvas that was Pam's back. She allowed them to roam, her mind cataloging to memory, the simple French braid that wove a crisscross pattern through soft flaxen strands, falling down Pam's back like a silken rope. Next was an astute observation of the manner in which Pam's fitted cream blouse clung neatly, enticingly to her womanly curves and her bustled skirt that accentuated an asset that for Tara was already more than visually appealing.

Embarrassed by the direction in which her thoughts had strayed to, Tara slapped upon herself, a metal berate, all the while lowering a suddenly bashful gaze that made her appear more youthful than her many immortal years.

Pam had that effect on her, the ability to render her to the mentality of a pubescent boy that had, for the very first time, set his eyes upon a beautiful female form.

Shaking her head in resignation, she took another pull from her tankard, crimson liquid slipping past the wry smile that had crept unbidden onto full, dusky pink lips.

Swallowing, she took another step forward and called out to her mate.

"Pamela."

Pam turned at the soft address, the materials of her skirt rustling musically as she pivoted to face Tara, glaucous tinged eyes immediately colliding with twin pools of midnight.

She smiled and tentative as the expression was, it was seemingly an unconscious gesture, chasing a slow path across the tumid landscape that was her lips until the corners curved visibly.

"Good evening, Tara."

Pam's greeting was equally soft, almost breathy in quality, the natural husk of her tone nearly lost under the crackle of kindling that glowed amber in the hearth.

"Good evening." Tara replied. She smiled gently at Pam. "This is an unexpected surprise."

"Yes." Pam was quiet for a moment, eyes lowering before they wandered back up to Tara's face. "I apologize for not announcing my impending visit with a messenger. It was...an impromptu decision on my part."

"You're welcome here anytime," Tara responded quietly. "My door will always be open to you."

Pam nodded then looked down at the ground.

"Are you in a rush?" Tara suddenly inquired, realizing belatedly that Pam was supposed to be at work. "Is your business being looked after adequately tonight?"

"I left Maggie in charge."

Maggie was the girl Pam was grooming to follow in her footsteps, the footsteps of an abbess.

Tara arched a brow and the expression resulted in a wry chuckle to tumble from Pam's lips.

Tara really did know her all too well.

"Ada will be there to supervise her," Pam added.

Tara nodded at this.

While Pam trusted Maggie, who had been in the blonde's care from almost the beginning, she was still reluctant to hand over the reins to someone so green and inexperienced with the business and financial aspects of running a brothel. Having Mrs. Mackenzie there to act as Pam's eyes and ears was not only sensible but necessary.

"So you can stay?"

Pam nodded. "I can stay."

Tara beamed at the easy response and took another sip from her tankard. Her eyes were warm and welcoming as they regarded her mate but they dimmed as quickly as Pam's presence lit them when she took a deliberate step forward then faltered, unsure if she were welcome after the events that had transpired between them last night.

She leveled a studying dark gaze onto azure eyes, searching for permission in those blue-gray depths, an uncertain expression dropping over the immortal features of her face.

Tara's hesitancy, the manner in which she was suddenly questioning her actions around Pam, along with their painfully polite conversation broke the blonde's heart and resolve.

She took the initiative, engineering a series of quick, purposeful steps forward, booted feet never stopping until she had all but walked into Tara's arms.

She wound her arms around Tara's sinewy frame hands immediately finding purchase and clutching tightly, desperately at the tunic covering Tara's back.

"I'm sorry," Pam whispered hoarsely, voice muffled as she buried her face into Tara's shoulder, inhaling deeply, the unique aroma of musk, cloves and sandalwood. "I'm so sorry, Tara."

Pale hands gripped at Tara's tunic, wrinkling the material in its grasp. Pam's arms were a vise around the vampire, as though anything less than a crushing embrace would result in Tara disappearing from the cage of her arms.

Tara snaked her unburdened arm around Pam's waist in turn, squeezing gently and using the close proximity of their bodies to pull her mate closer still.

"Shh…" she soothed, her stalwart Southern drawl low and palliative. She nuzzled her nose into the soft, warm skin of Pam's neck, seeking that alchemy of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla that would render her senses reeling and inhaling deeply, greedily, when she did.

"It's okay," she murmured, nudging the tip of her nose to Pam's tripping pulse. "It's alright."

A sob immediately tripped out of Pam's mouth at the verbal presence of Tara's forgiveness, shattering warm breath onto the juncture between Tara's neck and shoulder. She shook her head and clutched at Tara, tears slipping from beneath her lids to wet the material of Tara's tunic.

The vampire cuddled her mate closer, impossible as the act seemingly was when they were practically pressed up against each other. She tilted her head until cool lips were level with a pale ear then murmured a litany of reassurances, her voice sweet and smooth as honey.

"It's alright, Pamela."

Soft, mollifying words, quietly spoken around a dulcet tone that was rich with the love Tara had for Pam, the vampire doing what she could to ease the sob-born tremors wracking havoc on Pam's shoulders.

Pam shook her head and pulled back, revealing a pair of stormy eyes that were almost vibrant with grief and shame, tears glistening on pale lashes like a smattering of miniature diamonds.

"It's not," Pam exhaled shakily, voice hoarse with the evidence of her tears. "It's not alright. Nothing about my conduct last night was acceptable."

"Shh," Tara murmured once more, heart aching in the confines of her chest as a network of splinters chased jagged paths across the vulnerable muscle, a result of Pam's tearstained face. She reached up, thumbed away an errant tear that slipped lazily down a pale cheek then caressed the soft skin beneath her fingertips.

"I don't like fighting with you," Pam confessed softly, voice choking slightly over the burden of her emotions. She leaned into Tara's touch, desperately needing Tara to reassure her frayed nerves. "It makes me sick to my stomach."

"One spat is not an indication of the end of the world, Pamela." Tara smiled gently at her mate as she spoke, eyes warm and aglow with affection. She ran her knuckles down Pam's cheek then reached for Pam's hand, tangling their fingers together.

"Come on. Come here."

She tugged Pam towards the solid mahogany fainting couch, pausing only to set down her tankard on the tray containing Pam's tea, then encouraged her to take a seat.

Pam sat stiffly, awkwardly, pulling her hand away from Tara only to clasp it with her own. She settled them on her lap, a deterrent to keep from reaching for Tara and lowered her head, shame and embarrassment making a reappearance on the hiemal features of her face.

A cool palm alighted on her cheek, dark, limber fingers playing over soft, warm skin.

It prompted Pam to look up, to turn her head and allow still moist blue eyes to find temporary lodging on a pair of midnight hued orbs.

Tara smiled softly at her mate. "Do you wish to discuss it?"

No, she didn't. The last thing Pam wanted was to relive yet another moment in her life that cast one more stain upon her already soiled character.

But this was Tara.

Tara, who was always there for her, always ready with a kind word and a winning smile.

Tara, who was endlessly patient with her, coaxing her through her moods with an expert hand, never once judging her as she did so.

If she owed Tara anything, it was an explanation.

Even if that explanation meant the cost of her pride.

"I was out of line last night," Pam began softly. She reached up, plucked the hand Tara had lay purchase on her cheek then brought it down to her lap. Lacing their fingers together, she toyed with them, cerulean blue eyes riveted on the startling contrast of the color of their skins.

"My behavior was unwarranted," she continued. "Towards you and...and Ms. Hayward."

The name stuck to her throat, its reluctance to manifest into a verbal cue echoing the strains of jealously and apprehension still humming through her veins. Pam snuck a glance sideways, shoulders slumping as Tara simply gazed back at her with nothing but openness, patience and love.

She didn't deserve such willing forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Tara."

"What was it about my encounter with Ms. Hayward that provoked you so, Pamela?" Tara wondered, sounding genuinely perplexed. She moved a dark gaze upwards until they settled on sapphire blue pools. "You knew of my dalliance with Simone and yet never once did you react as such in her presence."

Pam looked away at this, a mournful sigh spilling from her lips. She allowed herself a moment to corral her thoughts, secure in the knowledge that Tara would be nothing but patient with her.

"You...you conducted yourself differently with her," Pam finally admitted, settling for the use of a pronoun instead of trying to force Naomi's name past a throat that would immediately constrict at the mere mention of Tara's former lover. "The two of you have history together; I could see in the manner in which you interacted, the look in both your eyes."

"Yes," Tara replied softly, unwilling to lie to Pam, even if it would erase the agony darting about in those sapphire eyes. "We do. I loved her very much once upon a time."

At the open admission, Pam cinched her jaw and looked away, Tara's words akin a serrated knife in her heart.

It was irrational, her reaction, but love had a way of making fools out of all its victims.

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

"I love Naomi very much, yes," Tara responded, tightening a careful grip around Pam's hand when the blonde attempted to pull away. "But I'm _in_ love with you," she continued, leveling a penetrating gaze onto her mate's face, as if the act alone would convince Pam of the truth to her words.

"Just you, Pamela," she finished softly, eyes imploring Pam to believe her. "Surely you know by now that it was always going to be you." She stroked a soothing line across Pam's knuckles with her thumb. "Only you."

Pam bit down on her lower lip, the blunt edges of her teeth worrying the vulnerable flesh. She ducked her head, the act shaking loose a lock of corn silk hair that tumbled over her forehead. The blonde looked like she wanted to say something but was unable to summon the will to voice it out loud.

"Do you believe me, Pamela?" Tara asked, her voice quiet as she stared at Pam's bowed head.

"I do," came Pam's equally quiet reply.

"But?" Tara prompted.

Pam opened her mouth then closed it again. She looked at Tara then looked away, a frown marring the skin between her eyes.

A gentle squeeze from Tara's hand gave her the courage of her convictions and she took solace in the soft pressure of the vampire's grip, using it to summon up the strength to speak.

"Why haven't we been intimate?"

Tara blinked. "I...what?"

"Please don't ask me to repeat myself," Pam mumbled. She ducked her head further, cheeks flaming with embarrassment and her free hand took to nervously picking at the material of her skirt.

"Is that what this is about? Do you truly think that I don't desire you physically?"

Tara's voice had taken on an incredulous edge, as though she couldn't fathom such absurd a notion. She gaped at Pam's bowed head, jaw comically slack, eyes wide with incomprehension.

"I...no…I don't know," Pam mumbled once more. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling Tara's stare on the side of her head like a burning beacon. "We've been courting for over half a year. And yet..."

"My dreams would make you blush," Tara interrupted bluntly.

Pam immediately flushed scarlet at the bold confession and she ducked her head so low that her chin touched her chest.

Tara clucked her tongue at this new development, the sound carrying trace amounts of exasperation and amused affection. She stood, breaking the connection of their hands then knelt down in front of her mate. Reaching up with both hands, she cupped either side of Pam's blushing face and lifted it until embarrassed blue eyes ran into her own pitch black gaze.

"Don't ever think that I don't find you attractive or desirable, Pamela," Tara informed her, expression and tone solemn. "If you understood the lengths I go through nightly to control myself around you, those seeds of doubt planted in your mind would never have found a channel into existence."

"Then why..."

"Why haven't we made love?" Tara finished, smiling affectionately as Pam's cheeks reddened to the color of a ripe tomato. She chuckled at her mate's bashfulness, glad that despite the hardships she endured and the lecherous nature of her occupation, Pam still managed to maintain an inkling of innocence when it came to the topic of the physical arts of pleasure.

Pam cut her eyes away from Tara, sure that the humiliation arrowing through her lithe frame would be the death of her. "Yes," she mumbled, sounding so mortified by the current topic of conversation that her response was barely intelligible.

"I respect you," Tara explained plainly. She removed one hand from Pam's face, brought it down until her fingers rested beneath the collar of Pam's blouse. Intuitive fingertips searched for scant seconds before stumbling upon the raised lining of the delicate white gold chain that was the necklace Tara had presented to Pam on Christmas.

Pam never took it off.

"This means you're mine, Pamela," Tara said softly, following the raised line of the chain beneath the material of Pam's blouse until it reached the pendant containing a blood red gem caught in the knots and swirls that made up Tara's insignia. She tapped the pendant with a finger. "But it does not mean I should bypass tradition and protocol."

Tara paused then made a point of looking into her mate's azure depths. Dark eyes bore into Pam's, the vampire's gaze intent, unflinching.

"After all, it's called a _marriage_ bed for a reason, is it not?"

Pam sucked in a noisy breath, eyes widening to the size of saucers at the not so subtle implication in Tara's explanation. She stared at the vampire, heart thudding wildly in her chest, blood rushing through her ears at a deafening decibel.

Tara smiled gently at the blonde and caressed her cheek, her other hand falling away to settle on Pam's skirt covered knee. "I will make love to you," she promised softly, heart clenching with fierce love and adoration as Pam blushed prettily. "To you and _with_ you." She traced an imaginary line down a prominent cheekbone, staring at the act as though she had never seen the like before.

Touching Pam, being able to caress her soft, warm skin was a privilege and joy unprecedented. In all her many centuries on earth, she had never known a more reverent act.

"When the time is right, Pamela, I'll make sure you fall into completion in the safety and strength of my arms," Tara whispered lovingly, gazing deep into sapphire hued eyes that were glistening anew with tears. "I'll make sure you feel nothing but pleasure, nothing but wholly cherished and nothing but utterly and permanently loved."

Pam surged forward and captured Tara's lips, too overwhelmed to do anything but give in to the urge to sip from the vampire's mouth. She kissed Tara's softly, slowly, deeply, using the slipping and sliding of their lips to convey all of what she felt for the woman kneeling before her.

"Does this mean we're done tiffing?" Tara murmured, looking suitably dazed as Pam finally pulled back, the need for air, forcing her to part from the ambrosia that was Tara's lips.

Pam nodded, bent and kissed Tara's cheek, letting her lips linger against cool, dark skin as she indulged in the vampire's wild, earthy scent. "I feel as though I can't apologize enough," she whispered regretfully into a dusky ear. "I really am sorry, Tara."

Tara turned her head, lips chasing after Pam's. When their mouths collided, Tara dusted a sweet, soft kiss onto her mate's crimson mouth.

"_Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt that I love you_," Tara recited softly, cool breathing caressing Pam's lips. She gazed into vivid orbs of azure blue, her own obsidian gaze soft with affection. "I love you, Pamela."

"I love you too, Tara."

Tara smiled, reached out and grasped Pam's hand then lifted it to her mouth. She brushed her lips over the soft skin of Pam's knuckles. "It's dinnertime. Are you hungry?"

"No," Pam immediately countered. She didn't want to move, was almost terrified that the act of leaving her present position on the fainting couch would rupture the bubble of contentment that was currently encasing her and Tara.

Her stomach seemed to think otherwise however and announced its displeasure with an audible gurgle, causing Pam to blush and Tara to chortle.

"Your stomach is contesting the truth of your statement, Princess." She bent and pressed a playful kiss to Pam's blouse covered stomach, freezing suddenly when she realized just how deeply intimate her new position was.

Dark eyes jumped upwards, running into a pair of sapphire blue orbs that were housed in a face currently blushing crimson.

Eyes that smoldered with the beginnings of a growing desire and need despite Pam's abashed expression.

Tara's fangs threatened to make an appearance at the sight.

She quickly bit down on her lower lip in retaliation, somehow managing to look both chastened and aroused. Eyes never leaving Pam's, she backtracked slowly, deliberately, straightening until she had maintained a more respectable stance before her mate.

"Dinner?" Tara repeated, internally cringing as her voice emerged huskier and more wanton than was appropriate or necessary. She shot Pam an apologetic glance and nervously cleared her throat.

Pam blinked purposefully and ran a hand across her heated cheeks, hoping to dispel some of its color. "Dinner," she echoed shyly, reaching out to grasp the hand Tara held out for her after she stood.

"Let me make you something," Tara offered solicitously as she began guiding Pam towards the library doors.

Pam stopped immediately at this and arched a dubious brow in Tara's direction. Despite Mrs. Brice's tutelage, Tara had not quite grasped the concept of cooking food and with their latest row still so fresh in her mind, she loathed to do or say anything that would ruffle Tara's feathers.

Her sudden halt prompted the vampire to do the same and when Tara caught sight of the expression on Pam's face she laughed softly and raised a hand in surrender.

"Alright, alright. I'll have the cook rustle something up," she conceded amicably, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss before she tugged once more on Pam's arm, urging her to follow.

"Thank you," Pam huffed, trying but failing to sound arch as Tara grinned impishly at her.

"Anytime, angel. Anytime."

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N 2** – Tara quoted Hamlet. 'Cuz Shakespeare is the shit.


End file.
